I was going to be something cutesy this year, like a flower or a princess. Really, I was. I had a discussion with a lovely lady at work (hi Marg!) about how to go about constructing myself into a brown eyed susan. I had a shopping list, and I headed out to Value Village (can I get a hallelujah?) to retrieve green stem-resembling clothing, or a princess dress.
I lasted 5 minutes. I walked in, furrowed my brow at the thought of being un-undead, and turned around and went back to the car.
“That was quick” said Jay (who always stays in the car reading a book when his wife needs to be in the Village for any length of time).
“I can’t do it. I just have to be undead” I moaned before burying my head in my hands.
“You’re always undead, sweetie. You’ve been a dead prom queen, a vampire, a dead french maid, ghoul, various types of zombies. Why not do something different?” laments Jay. He’s obviously restraining laughter at this point.
In my halloween tainted mind, the simple flower or princess couldn’t be left alone – I dreamt of scarifying it, like a venus flytrap or a horribly maimed princess. I guess halloween has become a channel for me to express my love for the undead.
So, here’s a photo of me before I left. A zombie. I made everything a bit shinier and darker as the night went on, and it was suitably disgusting. Hair matted with blood, some of the fleshy parts on my face started to fall off as the night went on which was even BETTER for the gross out factor. Jay, again illustrating why I adore him so, kept wandering by in his barbarian costume, growling and licking the colored chocolate/corn syrup “blood” off my neck.
I love halloween. I’m think next year I’ll be something… undead.