I love Halloween. The candy, the cavorting, but most importantly, the costumes. Whether I’m a flapper or a princess, Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn, I adore coming up with a unique idea and making it into reality.

I think it’s the theatrical side of me that is so drawn to the disguise aspect of Halloween. The ability to step into someone else’s life, even for a day, and leave your own behind is nothing if not intoxicating for me. (Even WHEN intoxicated.) Especially now, when I’m desperately looking for hidden meanings and small ‘signs’ in everything as an indicator to which direction I should be heading in my life.

Presently, I’ve got on a white Marilyn Monroe dress, the one made famous by that picture of her over a street vent with the skirt blowing in the wind. I’ve added the brown mole on my face, curled my hair (couldn’t find my wig), and dolled myself up quite nicely for a Friday morning, if I do say so myself. Most of my coworkers are not dressed up, and yet I still find myself walking with a new swagger, a bit of confidence that I certainly didn’t have when I was mulling over new ways to lose weight while falling asleep last night. My stress about relationships, family, work, have virtually vanished as I sashay myself down the hall to get another bottled water. If only this carefree attitude would stay when the dress is hung back up in the closet this afternoon.