Approved Parties

Every Halloween I was invited to a party and each year my mom helped me pick out a costume.

“Which one are you getting?”

“This one.”

“You can’t be the devil three years in a row.”  If I didn’t keep growing out of my costumes I could.

“Why not?”

“Pick something else.”  This meant she would pick something for me.  “How about this?”  She held up a French maid outfit.

“A maid?”

“It’s cute.  You could wear black fish net stockings and high heels.”  I was sold.  Red lipstick, blush, and a feather duster completed my outfit.

Next year I would revert back to being the devil.


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