The Power of Being Faceless

When I saw the “2^nd Skin Full-Body Stretch Jumpsuits” in the supermarket, I knew I had to buy some. I was sure that my husband and kids would want to wear them too, on Halloween, to answer the door.

Wouldn’t it be funny, when a trick-or-treater rang the bell, that the door was opened by a family of these colorful space aliens?

My family said no. They said we’d scare the little kids.

They said this after I put one of the suits on and started following them around the house. Not speaking, I would examine them closely, reach out a single index finger to touch them, smell them. Even though they knew it was me, husband and teenagers would visibly squirm until they couldn’t stand it anymore and then they’d yell, “Stop it! It’s so creepy!”

That was a lot of fun.

I did wear my suit on Halloween. I would stay back from the door and just wave or do a Dr. Spock “Live Long and Prosper” salute. My son, who was dressed as a mad scientist, would tell the kids, “Don’t mind that. It's just one of my experiments: one of my failed experiments.”

When the kids were small, my husband wanted to dress like a gorilla for one of their birthday parties. The suit we rented was very realistic. I thought it would scare the kids. We decided to show our kids the suit – very carefully, “See? Daddy’s going to put on the head now” – and ask what they thought. They regarded their father/gorilla very seriously, reached out their little hands to touch the fur and then shook their heads no when asked if they wanted Daddy to pretend to be a gorilla for their party.

Oh, well. Too bad.