I love Halloween. I have always loved this spooky holiday. I remember in elementary school my friends and Iplanning out our costumes. There was the princess year, the punk rocker year, the princess/fairy year, the punk rocker/hooker(?) year…I think you can see the trend. Come on, it was the ’80s. Although, that doesn’t explain the hooker costume. My joy of “dressing up” continued on into my mid-twenties. Every year I was invited to some party and every year I dressed up. It was always so much fun to walk into a party, in full-on costume mode, and enjoy the night.
I wonder what the heck changed?
My hubby and I were invited to a “toga” party a few weekends ago. Back in the day, my initial response would have been “heck-to-the-yeah! Where do I find my sheet?” This year? Not so much. My reaction was, “Oh, great. My big butt in a sheet? Um, nah,I don’t think so.” When I told my hubby that I thought we might pass on dressing up, he was confused.
Him: Why don’t you want to go? You love dressing up.
Me: I used to love dressing up. I’m over it now. Besides, we’ll still go but we won’ t dress up. I don’t really feel like standing out this year, okay?
Him: What do you mean you’re over it? You just dressed up last year! Remember, ’80s night? And don’t you think you’ll be standing out if you’re the only one not wearing a toga?
Me: Yes, but I’ll be the one standing out, not wearing a toga. Why are you arguing with me? You hate wearing costumes!
Him: Yeah, I know. I’m not wearing one, regardless. But I still don’t get it. What’s the problem with wearing a sheet?
Me: What’s the problem with wearing a sheet? Seriously?
Him: Okay. Whatever.
So I stood firm on my decision that we would attend the party (socializing is still very important to me) but sans giant sheet draped across my body (my butt swathed in sheets is not as important to me.) Or so I thought.
The day of the party I was visiting with a friend who was also invited. She had bought some material to make her toga and was going with a Vampire-esque toga theme. Her husband was going with a Nascar toga, complete with Hot Wheel car hot-glued to his shoulder.
She asked me, “I can’t remember.What did you decide to do for your toga?”
I felt likea loser. “Um, I’m not dressing up,” I answered,in a barely discernible whisper.
“Yes, you are,” she said.
“No, I’m really not. We’re going, but we’re not dressing up.”
“Yes, you are,” she said.
“I don’t even have any extra sheets,” I answered defensively.
“Well, here you go,” she says as she magically whisks outtwo sets of sheets, which materialized out of nowhere, I swear.
“Um, okay. I’ll work on it, I guess.” I went home and looked at the sheets, my story already forming in my mind. Something about spilling cooking oil all over the front of the sheet. But then I looked at them. One set were pink princess castles with a purple drawbridge and stars. And I was sold. I’mnot sure what it is about those sheets that brokeme out of my shell but I suddenly got excited about it. I would be Princess Toga!
And I was. And, honestly I looked pretty cute. I also felt fairly good about it…although I imagine the glass and a half of spiked punch I had upon arrival helped me out there a tiny bit. We ended up having a great time and I was so glad that I decided we would sport the togas. Jer, on the other hand…
Moral ofthe story~ I need to get over myself. Life is so much more fun when you buck up and enjoy the heck out of all it has to offer…toga parties and all.
Love to all, Mindy