devongottsch

Growing up, Halloween was by far my favorite holiday.  Months of hard work and anticipation had gone into one memorable, magical night. My young curly-haired and wide-eyed self spent a countless amount of time flip- ping through Halloween magazines trying to figure out who I was going to transform into that year. My mom had spent night after night slaving away on her sewing machine, making sure that my handmade costume was absolutely perfect. (Yes, she made all my costumes growing up… What a woman.)

I am not ashamed to admit that the costume I rocked as a 1-year- old was a Hershey’s Kiss. The metallic, puffy fabric proved the typical chubby Halloween baby syndrome was alive and well. My mom still says to this day that my cheeks alone filled out the entire hole for my face. She said I was just so “kissable.” Haha… You’ve got to love mom jokes.

As the years went on, I rocked ev- erything from Cinderella, to a gypsy, to Ariel the Little Mermaid complete with the red wig. The countless, tiring hours I spent with a measuring tape around various parts of my body was well worth it.

Getting compliments on my costumes just amped my adolescent confidence. Trick-or-treating was the best part because, honey, I knew I looked good even though I had dozens of glowsticks anchored around my body so my mom could keep track of me. What can I say? I was a girl on a mission and tended to wander off.  I might have been lit up like Times Square, but my intricate ensembles underneath the glowsticks always made a statement.  This is what really sparked my love for trick-or-treating.

I’ll admit: I was that teenager. I didn’t care if it was “uncool” to go trick-or-treating in middle school. If there was going to be free candy, your girl was there. I am unashamed to admit that I did this all the way up to sophomore year. I realized my window of opportunity was closing rapidly, and I knew I had to go all out with my costume because my 5-foot-7-inch height blew my cover. I did what any desperate 15-year-old would do. I dressed up as a chicken, because who could say no to a chicken?

However, the unanticipated cold shoulder was never fun, and I experienced it often.  Eventually, I started receiving, “Aren’t you a little old for trick-or-treating?”Lady, please do not tell me how to live my life. I could say you’re a little old to be wearing those PINK sweatpants, but you don’t hear me saying anything, do you?

As Halloween approaches, I can feel my inner child resurfacing once again. I passed the costume section at Walmart the other day in complete envy because I know I can never turn back the clock, no matter how much I want to.

Even though this former professional candy consumer is now a candy “passer-outer,” I can’t help but still love Halloween with my whole spooky heart.