This isn’t the post I wanted write today. I felt it needed more time though, so in the meantime, here’s a story about the very beginning of costuming for me. This part of my life has helped me meet some really creative and fun people, distract me from being ill and boost my mood when it all gets too much for me.
(Ironically my intended post was about what is normal for some people is vastly different for others.)
I have always loved dogs. I didn’t just want a dog; I wanted to be a dog. So one Halloween I transformed myself into an oddly shaped Dalmatian. I can’t remember exactly what age I was but I would guess about six or seven.
My costume was great, overalls. See what I did there? My amazing costume consisted of a white set of painters overalls, daubed with black splotches of paint and some simple face-paint. I insisted on having a large black spot over one eye, contrary to any Dalmatian I have ever seen. I was a young child, and the overalls were intended for a fully grown man. There was ample material left over to be twisted in a tail form at the back. The size of the overalls also meant in order to keep it on, I had to be sewn into it. Knowing this fact, my mother asked a thousand times did I need a bathroom visit before the official sewing ceremony. I said ‘no’ a thousand times.
I went off into the night, scampering like a puppy after my sister, who had chosen to be a waitress on roller skates. The houses on our road have sloped driveways so we would slowly go up to knock on doors, and then I would have to run to catch up with m sister who had no choice but to roll very fast down each driveway. After perhaps six, seven houses, as well as hopping around with excitement at it being Halloween, I started to hop around for a different reason. I needed to pee, and I needed to pee badly.
I didn’t want to go back home in case my parents said Halloween was over so I tried to wait it out. Nope, I needed to go. I told my sister, she didn’t want to go back home either. By the way, I could still see my house at this point. That’s how close we were.
There was nothing else for my stubborn mind to decide to do than use someone else’s bathroom. I was still on my street; the houses were the same, so any one of them had to have a bathroom right? We rolled slowly up the next driveway. We rang the bell. A man answered. He waited for the obligatory “Trick or Treat” chant. Instead I blurted out “I need to pee!’ so fast while bounding around that he didn’t catch what I said and looked at my sister for help. Being in a calmer state, she slowly asked if I could please use the bathroom. The man couldn’t say no, so I ran in and headed straight for the stairs, to where the bathroom is in my own house. This seemed to confuse the poor man even more, but I didn’t have time to waste. I ran into the bathroom and stopped.
My final obstacle, the man’s wife trying to get ready for a party, was doing her makeup in the mirror. I briefly thought, ‘Oh that’s funny, she’s a cat and I’m a dog!’
Then I remembered my predicament and pleaded to be cut out of my costume as soon as possible so I could go to the bathroom. The woman reacted admirably given the situation; the last thing she would have expected to barge in on her was a panicky Dalmatian. Within minutes I was ready to go back on the road again (tied back in, not sewn), and waved a grateful goodbye to the man and his wife, who I doubt won any prizes for her ‘cat’ costume that night.
My costumes since then have improved greatly, and I have learned to try every option apart from sewing myself in. it is only a last resort now.
If I ever find a photo of this ill-fated night, I’ll update this post.
DoubtsKillDreams 