When I entered Kindergarten, this commercial was extremely popular. People were repeatedly mimicking, "It's not nice to fool Mother Nature."
That Halloween, my mother, using a white sheet and floral candle holder, dressed me as Mother Nature. Can we say "Frugal"?
I loathed that costume. At the age of five, I wanted to be like all the rest of my classmates: a beautiful princess, a pink ballerina, a movie star or a magical fairy. Give me that glitter, the glitz, and the glam. I was five years old! I wanted sparkle! Goodness, even a witch would have been better than Mother Nature. How lame! I remember feeling uncomfortably different.
Uncomfortable in my own skin, I felt much like the character Ramona Geraldine Quimby (completing the Q with cat ears and whiskers) who was "afraid of losing herself behind that stuffy, scary mask."
My teacher, on the otherhand, had seen far too many princesses, ballerinas, fairies, and witches creep across the chambers of her classroom. She beheld me as the most original, artful, refreshingly creative creature in her classroom and gobbled me up as her personal show-and-tell to the other teachers.
I remember being dragged---ball and chain---to the various classrooms while looking down at that white sheet because I couldn't bear to look into the eyes of the other students. I remember feeling the floral wreath bob on my head and the hair pins pierce my scalp and wanting to die of embarrassment.
The other ballerinas, princesses, fairies, witches, and action heros looked at me with curious wonderment from across the room. I'm sure they wondered what was so great about a little girl in a white bed sheet with some
Honestly, I think this is where my reluctance for the limelight began.
Now, as an adult and, most especially, as a mother who has made her older children wear the same ridiculously "lame" red crayon costume; I see the creative powers my mother had. I see her inspiration. I see the wisdom in that goofy little costume. I see the practicality cents-wise. I have a new respect for my mother and for Mother Nature.
I should have known. Mother always knows best. ;-)
So what was your most ridiculous Halloween costume? Or, at least, the costume you "thought" was the lamest"?