When I was wearing a coat, I just looked like a hugely pregnant person with bad hair.
It wasn't always this way. I used to go whole hog. When I was five, I was the only girl in my kindergarten class to cross hetero-normative lines when I cross-dressed as Peter Pan:
In 1992, I was a kind of Medusa-lite witch, only to be upstaged by my sister, in what now seems like offensive brownface, as a Hershey's Kiss:
Even when I was fifteen, and arguably far too old to be trick-or-treating, my BFF Adri and I went as undead Ernie and Bert (note the homage to my former unibrow):
Looking through some old photos to find these memories of Halloweens past, I also discovered that I often found myself in accidental costume throughout my youth.
For instance, I was amazingly ahead of the trends when I went as Lily from Modern Family just months after my birth:
Kidding, I don't have two dads--the one on the left is my uncle.
Or how about my risque take on Teen Mom at age six?
Or my political statement when I recruited some friends to go as the Symbionese Liberation Army that same year? (I will also accept: young Sarah Palin.)
At my friend Betsy's wedding in 2008, she and our third Butlerette Ellaree helped me achieve my look as a cast member of Little People, Big World.
And one night after a few too many glasses of wine while watching ANTM, my friend Beth and I raided Jeff's and my wig collection to create an imaginary Simon and Garfunkle-esque duo composed of Aileen Wuornos and Clara Bow.
Even right now, typing this, I'm basically dressed as Randy Quaid in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, unwashed and grizzly, wearing a robe and knee socks. (All I need to complete my costume is to yell, "Shitter was full!")
Hmmm. Maybe I don't need Halloween, after all. Maybe I am one of those people I inch away from on the subway. The More You Know.
P.S. At Sam's request, we are going as Yo Gabba Gabba characters this year. Pray for me. Photos to come!