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Forget zombies, ghosts and hell spawn. That's nothing.
My frightening memory involves a full-body green spandex unitard, plastic ivy coiled around the legs, blinging braces and green Keds.
Most 15-year-olds wouldn't dare leave the house on Halloween night in a giant elastic jumpsuit a la Olivia Newton John.
But in 10th grade, I was determined to be Tinkerbell. Not Paris Hilton's yippy handbag dog. Peter Pan's erratic, sassy, cute blond sidekick.
It had been my lifelong dream to trick or treat as Tink. I was tiny. She was a sprite. Our hair was the same. We were both known to blow raspberries and pout in the corner.
The only problem was, growing up in Cleveland didn't permit me to wear her brand of uninsulated attire in late October. Candy hoarding on Lake Erie generally meant wearing three shirts, cable-knit tights and a burrito-style thermal vest under costumes.
Tinkerbell would never wear a thermal vest. How gauche.
So I compromised. I was a pink-turtlenecked ballerina. I was a fuzzy Care Bear. I even wore my grandpa's Coast Guard uniform and a sailor hat.
One particularly cold year, a winter parka stuffed under a lab coat killed my high-powered female surgeon costume. I was instead an Oompa Loompa. Picture Ralphie's little brother in A Christmas Story with a stethoscope.
Tink was just not in the cards. That is, until I moved to Florida.
The unitard was actually a stage costume of a plant spore used in the school's production of Little Shop of Horrors. Plant spore. That should help drive the point home.
While rifling through the costume closet with friends, I came across the algae organism suit, and the Tinkerbell obsession came fluttering back. With balmy Southern temperatures, I finally had my chance!
Let me just say, Tinkerbell looked more like a stalk of asparagus. Spandex doesn't work at any age.
Was I crazy? There were boys out that night! Boys I had to see the next day at school! Other girls wore cute zombie-bride or hippie ensembles, and I looked like a Flashdance reject.
I questioned my sanity for years.
Recently, a friend and I got together to make my costume for this year: a beautiful two-piece mermaid outfit.
As she sewed blue and green tulle to the bottom of the tail, she questioned her idea to wear a cat suit this year and dress as Emma Peel from The Avengers.
A plant spore moment?
I bit my tongue. It would have been mean to bring up the time she crimped her hair and dressed as Scary Spice.
- Stephanie Hayes is a part-time writer in the Times' Carrollwood office and a junior at the University of South Florida.