As to my dreams of being an evil witch…
The first Halloween I remember, I knew what I wanted to be when I set out on Trick or Treat: Malificent, the Evil Witch from Sleeping Beauty. She was everything I wanted to be: powerful, devious, answerable to no one and nothing except her own magnificent desires. Yep. That was my dream costume.
So what did my mother make me? Cinderella.
That's right. Subservient, ash-sweeping, bullied by her step-sisters Cinderella. The best reason she could give was that I was a blonde and evil witches are brunettes. I didn’t see what hair color had to do with it. I was evil, darn it! But that Halloween, I was a smiling-through-my-clenched-teeth Cinderella.
The next year, I was determined. I would be a witch. Malificent wasn’t the only witch around. The Evil Witch from the Wizard of Oz was… brunette, my mother informed me. I simply glared. That year, my mother sent me out as a fairy complete with wings and a sparkly star-tipped wand. I wanted to turn everyone into mice, especially my brunette little sister, who went as … you got it. She was a witch. A cute bright-eyed witch with a moon and black cat on her pointy little hat. Only the fact I found my sister useful for doing her share of the dishes spared her from my wrath.
A year later, I was still plotting to be a witch, but I decided to be devious. I took a pair of scissors to my long blonde hair and came out looking like a boy, not a princess. My mother cried. That year, she made me Peter Pan.
I was getting older and decided to broaden my horizons. My mother clearly was set against me being a witch, but there were other equally attractive forms of evil and power. Morticia Adams was creepy. There was a vampire queen on Dark Shadows. And Elvira was strangely alluring. Evil sorceresses and vampires were within reach.
I gnashed my teeth for another year… and the year after that. I gnashed my teeth until I was too tall and gangling to carry off childish costumes and could be relegated to chaperon duty for my terminally cute dark-haired sister and two younger brothers. I officially hated Halloween. But then it happened…
My freshman year in college, I got invited to a Halloween party. My mother suggested I go as Princess Leia… but I said no way. I was going to choose my own costume. Accompanied by my sister and using money I had saved for a rainy day (it was sunny, but what the heck), I went a local Renaissance Faire. I bought the coolest faux leather bustier and barbarian skirt. A black cloak I trimmed later at home with fur from an old coat. A cool belt and fake sword. I had a skull necklace at home, and a few other accessories to complete my look. I was a surly, powerful, not-to-be-messed-with blonde barbarian bitch!
I was a total hit with the guys. Turns out men like barbarian bitches. (For the record, the picture is not me, but Callisto from Xena.)
Over the years, I refined my look. I bought real leather: Roman-style skirt, kick-ass boots, lace-up bustiers with studs and chain mail cups. Hot antlers. Real swords, daggers, and maces. I can be a barbarian or a sorceress in a long, flowing dress with a neckline that would appall dear old mom, though she’s long since come to terms with my wicked side.
In my mom’s eyes, I’ll always be her pretty blonde princess, like the one on my Captive Heart cover. That’s how she sees me. She framed that cover.
But at heart, her little girl is an unrepentant witch.
Visit the other blog hop participants [HERE] to enter their contests for more great prizes! If you’d like to enter my contest, just comment below and leave your email. My trusty poodle and I will pick a winner by random drawing on the morning of November 1st, right after Halloween!