To those of you who’ve been reading my posts since August, it should come as no surprise that as a kid, I had unique expectations of Halloween.
Of course, Halloween was magical for me. Not just because of the candy, the spooky, ghosty stuff and the chance to run around outside in the dark, but because of the costumes.
Halloween was a yearly opportunity not just to wear a costume, but to become someone else—ideally someone painfully glamorous, royal or, at the very least, of Elvin blood. This character would be famous for her death defying dance & acrobatic moves and also possess powers like flying, mind reading and such. She was envied by women, loved by men—or boys, at least. In a strange twist that can only make sense to a child living in Middle America, she was often also a cheerleader.
So you’re thinking Wonder Woman, Catwoman, Bionic Woman or maybe Princess Leia—all solid, respectable choices.
But of course, Wonder Woman wasn’t for me. Oh no, a regular old Wonder Woman costume would not affect the transformation I needed. I had to create something that, in its beauty and originality, in the very effort of its creation, would bring me magic. And that magic would transform me from a weird, underachieving, semi-pariah into the “secret me,” the real me, the me I might have been if only…
Preparing for Halloween, I’d imagine my classmate’s faces when they saw me in my fabulous costume and realized they had never really seen me before, that I was in possession of something special and unique. They would fall to their knees, of course. Girls who had been mean would suddenly offer me the chocolate milk from their lunches, heck, they’d give their entire lunch, just for a chance to be my friend. And cute, popular boys who’d made fun of my Canadian accent and pelted me with snowballs would send me love notes soaked with apolpgetic tears.
It’s a good thing I had a vivid imagination, since that’s as far as my “magical transformation” ever got. Needless to say, I’d have fared much better (at least socially) in a Wonder Woman costume.
And I never got the super powers, the painful glamour (who wants it when it’s painful?!) or the Elvin blood either. But I kept looking, and not just at Halloween. The specifics changed (I stopped looking to be super-powered or have people falling to their knees, for example) but for a long time I looked for a “better” me. A me that wasn’t so shamefully, stubbornly strange, a me that would fit in with the cool kids. (Because the were the ones who were having the best time, weren’t they?!)
Eventually I stopped trying to make those kinds of friends and going into the arts helped too. And yet…I still felt like an undercover freak sometimes.
Then I started to write. And I finally figured out that the undercover freak is the better me. She’s the one with the survival skills, the unique perspective and the sense of humour. She’s the one who tells the stories. And I’m sure if she wanted to, she could conjure some royal blood, read a few minds or even fly. She wouldn’t even need it to be Halloween, either.
15 Replies to “Halloween & The Undercover Freak by Deb Danielle”
Wow, Danielle, how brave of you to write this post and show that picture of the ‘real you’ (very cute, by the way). I’m glad you finally embraced the undercover freak, because she is the ‘you’ everyone loves.
And I’d share my chocolate milk with you any day.
Thanks Joanne! I may be thirty-five now but that girl’s still in there.
I love this post and you know what? Chocolate milk is so overrated! I’d certainly share my red wine with you if you were nearby though 😉
Wonderful post, Danielle. I see you then and I see you now and I’d share my whole lunch with you anytime…
I’m just happy that you were finally able to come out of your shell — You look so shy in the picture.
Jenny–these days I’m happy to take wine instead–absolutely!
Gail–I know your lunch would be better than mine so I may take you up on that.
Lisa–LOL. No, I wasn’t shy at all. Odd, but not shy.
Thanks for the nice comments, ladies!
From one undercover freak to another, I salute you. 🙂
(Something tells me our cover’s blown now, though!)
I spent way too much of my life trying to be someone I’m not… Here’s to letting our freaks out — and not just on Halloween. 🙂
I loved this post. I could print it out and roll around on it I love it so much. I would totally share my chocolate milk with you.
Fly that freak frag proudly, girl! (And wouldn’t you love to see those other girls’ faces when they see Falling Under on display at bookstores everywhere!!!)
Great post. I am really looking forward to reading your book!
Sure, it took some maturity — as most great things do — but you found that power within, Danielle, and now you can literally create and become any character! How cool is that? 😉
The freaks are the good ones. Who wants to be normal? (Whatever that means.) Vive la difference!
Jess–saluting you back! And yeah, I know I’m really blowing my cover. Oh well!
Maureen–isn’t it a relief to stop all that nonsense?! Cheers to all-year-round freakiness!
Eileen–Thanks. Whenever we all manage to meet in person I’ll print this post and bring it along just for you. I’ll roll on something of yours too. Everyone will think we’re crazy and it’ll be great!
Sheila–Hi! Thanks for coming by and for commenting.
Larramie–It is pretty cool. And you’re right, so much of it is about maturity.
Heather–Yep, normalcy is seriously over-rated. I’m so happy I know it finally!
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