My best friend and I have gone trick-or-treating together throughout our entire friendship, spending Halloween running from door to door in our costumes and filling pillowcases with candy. When we were 14, I put a sheet over my head and went as a ghost, and she went as a cup of Kraft Mac & Cheese. When we were seniors in high school, we were still at it, braving the rain and having the time of our lives as a pirate and Batman. But that was in our small home town, where people were just happy to have someone to knock on their door and ask for candy. This year, as sophomores in college, we’re taking on Ann Arbor.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit uncertain of how our trick-or-treating experience will go. I haven’t gone in two years, and it’s certainly going to look different than my hometown. Instead of taking hours to get ready after school and waiting anxiously in my costume for 5 o’clock to roll around, I’ll be rushing back to my dorm after work, changing as quickly as possible, scarfing down some dinner and then rushing home again after trick-or-treating so I can throw on a version of my costume that calls for a lot less fabric and make my way over to Hill Street.
I’m not sure how well this mildly ambitious and stress-inducing plan will work. Will residents here be happy to see college kids engaging in a fun and innocent pastime, or are they sick of overage trick-or-treaters groveling for free candy? I don’t know, and while I’d prefer to get some smiles and chocolate bars, I guess I don’t really mind either way. I’m just excited to try it. Even if we get scolded by some suburban mom who thinks we’re too old to be shouting “trick or treat!” on her doorstep, I know we’re going to have a wonderful time.
My best friend and I do stupid stuff like this all the time. Most of the time, my friend suggests these things, because she’s incredibly confident and funny, and she always comes up with these silly activities for us to play out. Trick-or-treating was 100% her idea. I was honestly hesitant at first, but she brought me on board, and now I can’t wait. Just this past week, she asked me through an email forward to go to an event in the Michigan Union just so we could grab the free dinner and leave. Our junior year of high school, when we were at Great Lakes Crossing during a trip for a school event, we went on the carousel in the middle of the food court together. We were surrounded by people who were sitting quietly and enjoying the calm, relaxing ride while we spun ourselves in one of the teacup-seats as fast as we possibly could, laughing louder than anyone else there.
We’re not easily embarrassed when we’re with each other — we’ve made it a point not to be. It’s something we started years ago, but I don’t remember exactly when. It’s just become such a natural part of who I am, especially when I’m by her side. Basically, if one of us asks the other to do something that seems dumb and childish yet incredibly fun, but the other person is hesitant, all we have to do is remind them of the “YOLO” — you only live once — mindset, and their mind changes almost instantly.
YOLO. It’s incredibly dated and cringey by now, and generally in its heyday was mostly used in unserious contexts. But for us, it means you only have so many chances to experience life, and the opinions of the people you’re worried about embarrassing yourself in front of most likely aren’t going to matter, so just do whatever you want to do. When I’m feeling self-conscious about something, and my best friend looks at me and says “YOLO,” I realize how little what strangers think of me matters, and what a great time I could be having if I just let go. Why care so much about the opinions of people around you when you could just be happy instead, giggling with your best friend?
When I was apprehensive about going trick-or-treating, I eventually thought to myself, why? What is the big deal if someone starts lecturing us about this being a holiday for children, or yells at us to get off of their doorstep? It truly doesn’t matter. All it will be, whether it goes badly or not, is more for me and her to laugh about together.
I didn’t always have this mindset. My self-consciousness really set in when I was in fifth grade. During “national reading month” that year, my school did a “dress up as your favorite character” day. My mom and I were so excited — we picked Sally from “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” and I wore this crazy distressed tulle dress and my mom teased my hair and painted my face to make big eyelashes and stitches extending either side of my mouth. We took pictures before I left for school, and I was looking forward so much to getting to school and having everyone see my costume — until I got there, and no one else had dressed up.
Some people had subtly worn things that nodded to their favorite characters, like certain colors or items of clothing, but hardly anyone participated, and no one was anywhere close to the level of dressed-up I was. So I spent all day in that dress and face paint… mortified. I don’t remember if I cried, but the disappointment and embarrassment I felt stuck with me for a long time. I became terrified of doing anything that had even the slightest chance of giving me that feeling again; I panicked whenever I had to walk down the hall with a big project in my hands, was terrified on school spirit days and never went out of my comfort zone to try new hairstyles or fashion choices for fear of doing something “wrong.”
This insecurity followed me through middle school and even high school. I was quiet and timid a lot of the time, had zero self-confidence and based every single thing I did off of others. I wanted to make sure I was “normal” and did everything “right.” I remember during freshman year of high school, I obsessed over how other girls in my grade tucked their hair behind their ears. Did the hair fall back down past their ear? Did they tuck all of it, just one side, or leave out little strands in the front? I was meticulous in my observations of others and in my replications of their behavior, because I thought that being like everyone else as much as possible was the key to finally clicking into place and fitting in. I never had many friends, wasn’t included in much and even got bullied from time to time. I figured it was because I was doing something wrong. Looking back, I now realize that what I was doing “wrong” was being so afraid.
My best friend is the one who pulled me out of my own head. We met in a class in sixth grade, became attached at the hip within a year and she’s slowly been working her magic on me ever since. She’s always amazed me with her confidence and vibrancy; she’s really an incredible person, and I owe her everything for how she’s helped me grow and love myself. She encouraged me to be bold and to do everything I wanted to do without caring about who is looking. She still tells me, as many times as I need to hear it, how wonderful she finds me to be, and how little I should worry about being too much or not enough because I am fantastic the way I am. She truly is the one who dug me out of the hole I was in, and I do all I can to do the same for her when she needs it. Now, we use that courage that we’ve cultivated together to say YOLO and go trick-or-treating at 19 years old.
It’s so wonderful to have someone who will live life like this with you. We remind each other that, in her words, “embarrassment isn’t real” and, even when we’re still a little bit scared of something, at least we’re not alone.
Our junior year of high school, we dressed up as Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy from “SpongBob SquarePants” for a football game on Halloween. We felt ridiculous — I had a painted purple star over my nose, and she wore a black burglar mask over her eyes. While we were getting ready at her house, I kept saying I felt like I looked stupid and she kept telling me I didn’t, and vice versa. We were stressed and a little nervous but eventually, we posed for pictures on her porch, went to the game and had a great time. Tons of people complimented us, and we felt silly and happy being together in those costumes we were initially uncomfortable to leave the house in. It’s one of my favorite memories with her now, and gave me one of my favorite pictures of us, standing in front of her front door touching fists in an imitation of a popular snapshot from the show.
So, while retiring to my dorm with a big bag full of candy would certainly be nice, I’m mostly just looking forward to how much we’re going to laugh with each other this Halloween — walking down Granger Avenue, giggling because we’re ringing doorbells with elementary schoolers. I really don’t care how our time trick-or-treating goes, as long as I do it with her. I’m sure we’ll get cold feet at the first door, and I’ll have to push her or she’ll have to push me and we might get testy with each other. But I know we’ll get past it together.
All of the embarrassment in the world is worth the laughter we’ve gotten from it. And that’s why you’ll catch me in the suburbs of Ann Arbor on Halloween night, bent over in stitches with my favorite person in the world.
Statement Columnist Audrey Hollenbaugh can be reached at aehollen@umich.edu.
The post I’m going trick-or-treating this year appeared first on The Michigan Daily.
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