By LaraMoon <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Submitted November 2007
Summary: This is what happens when you put someone else in charge of finding the right costume for you.
This was written for the "Guess The Author" challenge, which was held near Halloween and had a costume theme.
It's a little bit of nothing in particular that came to me late at night when I should have been in bed already.
I try not to make a face as she shows me the next costume. She's gone through a lot of trouble for this and the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt her feelings, but I'm starting to think maybe putting her in charge wasn't such a good idea after all. It's not like I really had much choice, though, so I've been sucking it up — so far.
"What about that one?" she asks.
I don't suppose there's an easy or a nice way to tell her that this outfit is simply too…out there?
She's shown me two costumes already, neither of which I liked at all. I tried them on because she insisted, and I paraded a little so she could see how I looked in those…things. I even turned around, and around again, letting her get a good impression of my appearance. But from the moment I put each of them on, I already knew there was no way I was going to go anywhere dressed like that. Sure it's a disguise, but I still have some pride!
This one has a mask and — oh, I just don't like those at all. And it's flashy. And it's really very strange looking. I'm not even sure *what* it's supposed to be. But she's brought it out and she's smiling at me encouragingly, so I feel compelled to put it on and model it for her. I stifle a sigh and change into this third costume. I already know I won't like it when I'll look at myself in the mirror.
Sure enough, when I open my eyes and glance at my reflection, I'm almost shocked by what I see. I turn around and face her, shaking my head. She shrugs, and though she's still smiling, I can tell she's getting really tired of this little game. It pains me to have to reject yet another costume, but I really have to. Especially this one. I mean, honestly… I love her, I really do, but that thing is horrendous!
The next one she shows me — and which I try on, obediently — is so awful, we both laugh. I take it off in two seconds flat and stand there, waiting to see if she's got another suggestion. I'm sure she's probably got a few more still. She must have spent a fortune on these. Right, and I'm sure I needed another reason to feel guilty about hating all of them!
This one she's just handed me actually looks good for a change. Who knows, maybe this will be the one. It's about time!
I put it on and, hey, even the mirror thinks this has potential. Yeah, I think this is the right costume for me. It's neither flashy, nor weird, nor does it have any sort of headgear, which I'm definitely happy about.
"What do you think?" I ask her, hopeful.
She sees me smiling and she starts smiling too. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have a winner.
Looking me up and down she suddenly smothers a laugh and, trying to keep a straight face, announces, "One thing's for sure. Nobody's going to be looking at your face."
"Mom!" I protest, blushing all the way to my ears.
I can't believe my *mother* was actually checking me out that way. Oh, the humanity!
THE END. In a way…