There. I said it. Whew! That felt good.

I have never liked dressing up. As a kid it seemed a fair (though admittedly burdensome) exchange for free candy. I was actually grateful when I could use the “I’m too old for trick or treating” excuse to get out of it and would just hand out candy and appear above all such childish things. I was 11.

When I entered adulthood and adult Halloween parties came along, I would dress up for the free booze until I then realized I could not dress up completely guilt free because you’re not the boss of me, Halloween!

So this year, like last year and the many years before, I have dressed up as Undercover Police (lookin’ like regular folk), KGB (blending in, don’t I totally look American?),  That Girl on TV. Guess which one? That’s the one!, and then one year I went all out, dressed in all black and put a stamp on my hand. Yes, I was Blackmail. 

I imagine that if I ever have kids I’ll have to like Halloween but I really don’t want to. That all by itself may be reason enough to not have kids. Apparently, you have to put your children’s happiness above your own. Screw that noise.