It was the Breast of Times, it was the Worst of Times

Breasts. Tits. Boobs. Hooters. Knockers. Funbags. Whatever you call them, society is obsessed with them. Everyone, male or female, gay or straight, young or old, seems to have some strange fascination with them. But I am not writing this blog to discuss and analyze society's obsession with breasts. No, I've got another, more personal topic related to breasts.
Tomorrow, I am getting a breast reduction. I will be going down from a mammoth H cup to a livable, decent C cup. And so I've decided to write, perhaps self-indulgently about the journey my tits and I have been on, for you see, we are bosom buddies, and have always had a complicated relationship...

When I was a child, I couldn't wait to start growing breasts, and I didn't have to wait very long. I first started to bud when I was eight. I remember looking in a bathroom mirror in the elementary school bathroom, on the eve of my ninth birthday, and seeing, for the first time, two distinct nubs under my purple t-shirt. I was excited. I squealed in joy. I was getting breasts! Soon, I'd get pubic hair, and then my period...puberty!
I asked for a training bra in fourth grade. It seemed like the right thing to do. I was so pleased with the onset of puberty, and was certain that it would be fun. I got my white cotton training bra on Easter, promptly put it on, and HATED it. It was so uncomfortable! Ridiculously so! I refused to wear, even though I had asked for it. I tried, I tried to wear it, but I just couldn't do it. I never really wore it, and eventually, when I was twelve, gave it to a friend who seemed to need it more.
Even as my breasts grew and grew, I still refused to wear a bra. In fifth grade, I had an embarrassing moment, when I bent down in a loose tank top, and the boy I'd had a crush on saw my bare breast. I was humiliated, and I remember him whispering with his friends, feverishly.
When I was in sixth grade, I was a B cup, and still refused to wear a bra. I got picked on by the other girls. They especially complained if my t-shirt had a hole in it, and I had a wardrobe malfunction. They were so offended, why I do not know. Prudishness, passed on by Puritanical ancestors? Latent homophobia? Jealousy? Even the school therapist told me to conform and wear a bra. I didn't want to. They were uncomfortable, and I had a lot of issues with sensory and textures at the time. Stupid Autism.
Finally, by 7th grade, I surrendered, and starting wearing bras. One the first day, I borrowed one of my mother's, and when some of the girl's saw the strap slip out from my shirt, they giggled and said retarded things like "Sara's wearing a hot pink bra". Really? Really? It was gray. Gray. I'm aware they were fucking with me, but that doesn't make it any less annoying.
While I wore bras, I still had days were I went bra-less, and always, took them off the minute I got home. I mostly wore sports bras, and soft cups, but I tried underwire now and again.
My juvenile breasts attracted attention. Since sixth grade, there had always been rumors that I stuffed my bra. I was offended. My breasts were the real thing, and I always told people so.
I'm sure the boys in my class noticed them, I later found out that one of my nicknames, 'Tree', not only referenced my bushy hair, but also my breasts, which were abundant, while the rest of me remained slender. I was shaped like a tree, essentially. Big foliage, skinny trunk.
By eighth grade, I'd gone up another cup size. C cup. I was used to wearing bras now, but found them horribly uncomfortable, especially underwires. I used to tuck the fabric of my shirt under the wires, to provide a cushion. It annoyed one of my classmates, Teal, but then again, she seemed rather annoyed by a lot of my quirks, such as running on my toes, and writing smutty romance stories at the tender age of 14.
By eighth grade, the stuffing rumors had also stopped (though a girl once asked me at a Halloween party if I stuffed and when I told her no, she shut the hell up). No one has since questioned the integrity of my tits. At least not to my face.
Back in the 7th grade, I was reading a Seventeen Magazine article about a girl who had a breast reduction. They didn't disclose her cup size, but the pictures showed that she was very large. I remember thinking 'That will never happen to me'. I think I challenged the gods, with that statement.
By the end of 9th grade I was a D cup, and my mother and sister began to suggest the possibility of a reduction. I was offended by this. I loved that I had naturally large breasts, even if I couldn't wear cute bikinis and swimsuits. Even if the kids at school were put off by the size of my chest, and the costumers in school plays always tried to hide my chest with frumpy costumes. (I always managed to fight them, and find something that highlighted my figure. I knew women paid lots of money to have boobs like mine, and that I was gifted. My friend Nicki often called them The Tatas, and her fascination with them amused me. To quote something we once wrote in a story "You got more than a handful there, cause those are some huge tatas!"
But there were still doubts. Sometimes, I'd look at my naked body in the mirror, and be disgusted. The other girls were smaller, perkier, mine, had weight, they didn't stand proud and tall, and too me, they looked saggy. My mother tried to reassure me, tell me that one day I'd find someone who would love my body just as it was.
Before we moved to Bellows Falls, I went up another cup size. DD. In my new home, my breast attracted more attention than in Willsboro. I got groped by a boy for the first time, though he didn't ask permission first. My breast ceased to be mine somehow, for it seemed friends were always poking them. I got ogled at Anime cons. I began to deflect my self-consciousness by making jokes about them, discussing them candidly. This backfired on me, because eventually I got called out and insulted by someone, who remains nameless due to the peace I've made with them. They called my breasts 'saggy mammaries' and accused me of being obsessed with them. It's not that I was obsessed, it's just that I'd hyper-focused. I do that. A lot. This person ripped apart my character in other ways, but let us not dwell on the past. I often wonder why I receive such negative attention for my breasts. It's not like I went out and got silicone implants, it's not like I wanted to have big breasts. Well, I did when I was a little girl, but what did I know then?
In 2007, I met Scott at Anime Boston. He seemed fascinated with my breasts. But then again, most guys were. Most girls were too. My friend Kate was President of the Boobs for awhile, and would often grab them or rest her head on them.
As our long-distance relationship progressed though, he began to say things that bothered me. He would say he preferred small breasts, that he liked them perky. I told him he's bet on the wrong horse, natural DD's aren't 'perky'. He said as long as I could see the nipple, I was fine. I began to dread undressing for him.
But the first time he saw my naked breasts, he was fascinated by them. He seemed to fall in love with them. He became obsessed with them, said praised them. My self-esteem was considerably bolstered by this. My mother's prophecy had come true. I had found a man who loved my body as it was. At least it seemed so.
During my senior year, I started taking the pill, and my breasts began to balloon, and I gained weight. I blamed stress, my grandmother was dying. I kept buying new bras, but none of them fit. I began to feel horrible about myself.
I went to Lane Bryant that spring, got measured. The lady did a double take. She said I was an H cup. AN H?! My aunt was that size after she'd had a baby. I think I began to cry. I felt despair creep. And in that little dressing room, I decided, that I would finally get a breast reduction.
When I told Scott, he was excited that my breasts were so big. He told me I had 'hentai boobs'. That they were hot. He had a fetish for them, playing with them, and insisting on tit-related sexual practices that I'd rather not describe. I began to feel that he only loved my boobs and not me. I began to feel that people only saw my breasts and not me. As years passed, I began to feel resentful, all the jokes, all the stares. People acted like my breasts were public property. Just a few months ago, a friend lifted them up, without even asking 'to see how much they weighed'. My best friend told me they looked weird and scary. I hated them. I hated them so much. All the jokes I made, couldn't ward off my pain, anger and humiliation.
And yet, a sliver of pride remained. After all, some women pay thousands of dollars for such large tits. You see porns stars with K cups, but they pay MONEY for those, they're fake.
But pride didn't make my back stop hurting, didn't make shopping less humiliating. I HAD to get surgery and fix this shit.
I went to a plastic surgeon in Springfield in spring of 2009. I was hopeful. He said I was a prime candidate, took pictures for insurance reasons. But he didn't explain the procedure very well and treated me like I was stupid. I asked if I would still be able to breast feed. He said, no he was going to do a free nipple graft, it was easier than a pedicle. He would remove my entire nipple, and put me at risk of infection and nerve damage and hurt my chances of breast feeding my kids, just because he was too lazy to do a pedicle! Not only that, he didn't even really try that hard with my insurance. Medicaid denied me. No proof of rash or strap mark. I got proof, but he wouldn't take it. He was a lousy surgeon and in hindsight, I'm glad it's not that buffoon cutting me up. I'd rather have a squirrel chew my tits off than let that misogynist, outdated sawbones lay a hand on me. I even wrote a poem about all this crap.
Another year or two passed. In 2011 I went to Dr. Ridgeway at Dartmouth-Hitchcock. A woman. She listened. She looked at my breasts and decided that I really needed the surgery. Hope. Again, hope.
But insurance changes prevented my surgery, and I waited another 8 or 9 months. In October, I went back to the doctor, and with my new insurance, I found out that they could just do the surgery, and then I had to wait for my insurance to approve it. We made the date, I signed the papers, and it was done. December 12th was the big day.
For the past two months, it's been easier dealing with my breasts. Sometimes, I think I'm going to miss being this big, after all, in a way it set me apart from the pack, but then I remind myself of all the pain, and misery I've endured. I think of all the things I'll be able to do. I'll shawl dance, drum better, run and jump and go clubbing without fear of embarrassment. I'm tired of being the girl with big tits. I'm tired of men only liking me for my 'big ol' titties' as some cretins like to call them. I worry a little, that I won't be as popular or something, but I was never popular anyway. I worry about negative changes, but I can't turn back now I suppose.
My tits and I have a complicated relationship. We love each other, and yet all we do is hurt each other. Sometimes it feels like they've become sentient beings at that I'm hurting them by doing this. Maybe it's time to get these puppies under control.

What I'm Thankful For

Well here it is, the cliche 'what I'm thankful for' Thanksgiving blog. In past years, I would have scoffed at this, rolled my eyes, because honestly, I didn't always have anything to be thankful for. I was tormented in school and didn't have many friends as a kid, and as an adult I'm usually very depressed around Thanksgiving. So, the past few years have proved barren in terms of thankful proclamations at the dinner table.
But this year was different. So much has happened in the past year, that I cannot help but become mushy and start to blubber my gratitude towards the excellent fortune I have received in 2011.
Not to say that there haven't been bad times this year, but personally, I have been blessed many times over. So let us hear it, what am I thankful for this Thanksgiving?

1. My Breast Reduction:
In February of this year I went to Dartmouth Hitchcock to have a consult with a plastic surgeon regarding the size of my breasts and the possibility of a breast reduction. It was successful, and we only had to wait for my insurance to approve it. But in spring my insurance underwent several changes, and I was denied surgery for yet a third time. But I knew it was over. My insurance changed again, and I went back for a second consult. This time, I was lucky and got a surgery date for the 12th of December. So I am thankful that soon, I will no longer be in the constant physical pain that come with having over-abundant breasts, and instead be in constant physical pain that comes from a major surgical procedure to make those breasts smaller.

2. Receiving Social Security:
As my readers may know, I have an Autism Spectrum Disorder. As a result, functioning in school and the work place is difficult. I have to undergo therapy, and take medications to keep the symptoms of my disorder in check. In 2010, I had applied for disability, and gotten denied right away. I challenged their decision, and got a lawyer (who didn't do much). By March of 2011, I was approved and started getting checks in the mail. This has made my life easier, I can now contribute to the household, and buy things I need.

3. Getting Out of an Abusive Relationship:
In April, Scott dumped me. I'd been with him for four years, and during those long years, he treated me like shit. There were bright moments at times, and I did love him, but I was miserable. I couldn't talk to my friends, or do anything I enjoyed. He made me stop talking to other men, he threatened to leave me if I smoked pot, or went to college or did any of the things people my age experiment with.
He dumped me two days before my birthday, and I considered a reunion, but when he told me that if I could rekindle my friendship with my male friends, then he could 'fuck whoever he wanted,'. Sick of his illogical and childish behavior, I said goodbye forever.
I loved him, and I was sad at first (especially right after the breakup itself), but eventually I realized that this tragedy was really a blessing. I'm a free bird now, allowed to do as I please. While I still feel bad about how things ended, and the time I wasted, I don't think I regret taking back my life and becoming my own woman again.

4. The Drum
One winter day, I ran into a man named Whitewolf, who happened to be looking for drummers. I had no experience, but he accepted my offers anyway, and thus I joined The Voice of United Spirit Singers. After that my life turned around. I wasn't angry or sad or scared anymore. I was taking my meds, stopped resisting my therapist. I was regaining some of my sense of self. I learned how to drum, how to sing Native American songs. I learned about my heritage, I learned about who I was as a person. I went to powwows and met wonderful people. I learned so many things after embarking on the journey of being a powwow drummer.
I am thankful for Voice of United Spirit and her singers, most of all. They have become my family, and I love them as I would love my own blood. I don't know where I would be without them or what I would be doing. Perhaps I would still be in an abusive relationship, becoming more and more despondent as the days go by. I don't know and I don't want to think about it.

5. All the Small Things:
After all describing all the big changes that I am thankful for, I want to make an honorable mention to all the little things that have made my life sweet. My friends, my family, my cats. Sleepovers with Kenny, and meeting my niece. Going on drives with Becca, and to the fair with Arielle. Late night swims with the gang, the Shelburne Museum with my mother and sister. Cemetery trips. Swimming in the river, and watching movies. Lady Gaga.

Guilt and Contrition

Thinking back to my last post, I do actually feel rather guilty about the comments I made about person number two. While I did mean what I said at the time I said it, that does not mean I do not feel bad about it now.
If the person these comments were directed at, realized that these words were about them, I am sorry if I hurt their feelings. I was feeling angry, and now that I am no longer feeling angry, I am willing to have a talk with them about the problems within our friendship.
The fact is, I love Person Number 2. I have known them for many years, and I say these things not only out of frustration, but also out of concern for that person's well-being. I want them to be happy, but I also want them to understand that some happinesses do not last forever.
My feelings were hurt by some words this person said to me. Perhaps they flung these insults about callously, not realizing what effect they would have on my pride. Perhaps, they were taking out their negativity on me. I do not know.
So here it is, I have to talk candidly with this person, tell them how I feel. But I am afraid. I am afraid of making the situation worse, mostly. My relationship with this person has suffered in the past.
Perhaps, they never even saw this blog. So perhaps this whole post was pointless. After all, most people have better things to do than read the ramblings of a socially awkward, Autistic, powwow drummer.

Things I'll Never Say (to your face)

Sometimes, we want to say certain things to certain people. But for one reason or another, we don't get around to it, usually because we are afraid, or because we don't want to hurt the person's feelings. Tonight, I am going to make a bold move, and write out these things, these things I want to say. They are addressed to friends, to enemies. They are supposed to be anonymous, but if someone figures out the identity of the person these message are addressed to, I suppose I will need to face the consequences.

1. You give me the creeps. Every time I am nice to you, I regret it, afterwards. Because as soon as I am nice to you, you attach yourself to me like a leech. Then when I call you out on your clingy obsessive behavior, you lie and say you're just trying to be my friend, when really, I know you're trying to get into my pants. Speaking of lies, you seem to tell A LOT of them. Do you even believe the bullshit that comes out of your mouth? I mean, who are you trying to impress? Well, me obviously, and the rest of the girls in town, but do you actually think it works? It doesn't. It makes me distrust you. Do you know WHY I keep avoiding you? Why, after I declared interest, I suddenly recanted? It's because you give me a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Do you wonder why so many girls tend to ditch you? They get interested, and then out of nowhere, they stop talking to you, cut off contact? It's because you're a creeper. It's because you're a liar, it's because you probably give them the same bad feeling in the pit of their stomachs that I get. Half of the stuff you brag about, (which is mostly not true anyway) is nothing you SHOULD be bragging about. It's all stuff that sets up GIANT FUCKING RED FLAGS.
Also, it's called mouthwash. It's not expensive. Why bother dousing yourself in so much cologne that, if I lit a match you would catch fire, if you're just going to breath stank breath in my fair visage?

2. Sorry, the rant has removed due to the friendship of magic.

3. I'm sorry things ended the way they did. I'm sorry your life hasn't been easy. But I can't save you, it wasn't my job. I loved you, and I tried to make you happy. But like I said, happiness comes from within, and all that happy horse shit. You abused me. You claimed that you did not, but you did. Calling me a cunt is abusive. Telling me that if I don't stop talking to my best guy friend, you'll leave me, that's abusive. Forcing me to do things, by wearing down my defenses by begging and pleading until I say yes out of sheer exasperation, that's abusive too. I wasn't a saint, I did treat you like shit, but lemme tell ya, I treat my lovers the way they treat me. But I took responsibility for my actions, unlike you.
But once upon I time, I loved you. I loved you so much, and I wanted so much from you. I loved you so much, that I lied to myself just to keep you. Made excuses, bent over backwards. I'm never doing that again. I'm not sad it's over. I'm free now. I can try new things, and meet people and go on adventures, and not have to feel guilty. I feel bad about it ended, but I don't feel bad about having to end it. Sometimes I'm still in disbelief, but then I remember how bad things were, how miserable I was, and I thank Creator I got out before it could have gotten worse.

4. Sometimes I think you're boring and pretentious, but there's something about you, that I am just drawn to. I want another chance, and I'm sure you know it, but I'm afraid that it will never happen. But I still hope. I just can't help it.
BTW, if you're not interested, just fucking be honest and say so.

Halloween Memories Part 2

I had too many memories for just one entry, so I decided to make it a two-parter. I covered my childhood Halloween memories, so now I suppose I must chronicle the Halloweens of my adolescence and early adulthood. If you don't give a fuck, I suggest you turn back now.

Halloween 2001, Age 12: That year, I decided to go as a dance hall girl, like my sisters did when they were around this age. I had an old salmon-colored bridesmaid dress that I used for dress up. My mom trimmed it in black lace and tucked the skirts back to form a bustle. We bought fishnets, and I wore my little ankle boots. I got to wear really dark red lipstick, and a fake rose in my hair. I was very impressed with how pretty I looked.
A girl in my class, also named Sara, was throwing a Halloween party, but I opted not to go, in favor of trick or treating one last time. I wore my costume to school again, which garnered me lots of attention, as it usually did. When I went out with my sister that night I carried two bags, hoping I'd get lots of candy. I didn't. I don't even think I filled one bag. I also had to wear my jacket because it was so cold. Instead of looking like a glamorous can-can dancer, I ended up looking like an Ellis Island immigrant. I got very stale gum from an old lady.

Halloween 2002, Age 13: I decided to eschew trick or treating with a firm hand, and go to Sara H's party. I would be going as a gypsy. It was a pretty neat costume, with a patchwork skirt, and scarves and boots. An off the shoulder chemise accentuated my premature busty figure. I actually looked like a gypsy. But I didn't wear the costume to school. Instead, I dressed up like a punk rocker (not realizing that months later, I would actually adopt the style full-time). I looked pretty epic as a little punk. Sophie Clarke (of Survivor fame) was in my English class and she stared at me rather creepily as I sat there with my spiked hair, chains and torn clothes. When school was out, I walked home and got ready for the party.
The party wasn't as fun as I'd hoped. The boys teased me every time I got up to go to the bathroom. I tried singing karaoke with the girls, but after awhile they didn't want me singing with them (for reasons unknown to me). Victoria asked me if I stuffed my bra. Never have, never needed to, not even then. The highlight of the evening was when I won the costume contest for my gypsy costume. I was very pleased with this, and quite surprised that I had actually won something and that they liked my costume. When I got home, I watched the end of The Faculty and mooned over Elijah Wood while eating candy.

Halloween 2003, Age 14: Obsessed with The Lord of the Rings, I decided to go as a wood elf. We made a tunic, and I wore a pair of tight green pants and some neat leather boots. Katie tinted my hair green, and tried doing forest camouflage on my face. Mom bought me a plastic sword.
A week before Halloween, I went to a party at my mom's work, where I would end up meeting my best friend, Amanda. She was a vampire, I was an elf. I told her I like her jacket and we became fast friends.
At school, I dressed as a goth vampire. I took my sister's feather witch hat, and pinned down the crown so it would look like an Edwardian hat. I had a bad day at school. I got teased at the pep rally, and some bully named Eli snatched my hat. I got him back though. He hid, but I found him, grabbed my hat and kneed that fucker right in the balls. I didn't even get in trouble, and his female friends didn't blame me for it, even when he whined.
Katie and I went trick or treating that night. As usual, the two of us had quite good time. When I got home, and washed off my costume, some popular kids pelted my house with onions. Or maybe that happened in 2002. Regardless, I never found out who did it, but I will always have my suspicions.

Halloween 2004, Age 15: Our last Halloween in Willsboro. This year I was going as a pretty flower fairy. I wore a wispy green skirt, and a green belly shirt. Mom made me beautiful gold net wings. We got a lot of pretty shimmery green makeup. I wore this costume to the party at mom's work, where my wings kept falling off. I also froze my ass off. But Amanda got some really pretty pictures of me from that night.
Because I froze my ass off, I couldn't possibly wear that costume on Halloween night. When I went to school on Halloween, I dressed as a Medieval lady, in a red houppelande. With my short hair and glasses, everyone assumed I was Harry Potter. Sophie Clarke antagonized me all day with "Are you Harry Potter? Are you Harry Potter?". If she's grown out of her obnoxiousness, I do not know. When I got home, my mom, sister and I turned fairy costume into a punk fairy costume. Mom sewed my gold wings into a leather jacket. I wore a black mini, a black shirt, holey tights and boots. Katie did my makeup. She put on some bunny ears (she was a were-rabbit) and off we went. It was a great night. The best Halloween ever. We got lots of candy, and some creeper thought I was supposed to be an angel. My ex-boyfriend's little brother shouted at us from his back, but it didn't seem to matter. We ate apples by the river.

Halloween 2005, Age 16: We moved to Bellows Falls, VT earlier that year. I'd made some friends in a local Anime club, and we put together a trick or treating expedition. I dressed as Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas. My mom made the dress, and we used white tights that we drew stitches on to make my rag doll arms and legs. My godmother bought me a red wig, and we used eyeliner to make stitches on my face. My friends and I all met up at the library, and then we went trick or treating. We were an interesting group. There were ninjas, fairies, changelings and pirates. Arielle wore a goblin mask and a pretty dress. Whenever anyone asked what she was supposed to be she said "I'm your ex-girlfriend".
Sometime during the night we all got split up. This distressed me quite bit, and as a result, I was in a rather surly mood for the rest of the evening. By the end of the night, most of the party reunited, and after some of them went home, Hannah, Caitlin, Nina and I crossed the bridge into Walpole, NH to trick or treat there and visit Caitlin's grandma. When I got home, my mom had a pizza waiting for me, and thus ended my first Halloween in good ol' Fellows Balls.

Halloween 2006, Age 17: Like last year, my friends and I were going to go trick or treating. I was disappointed however, when Hannah decided to go trick or treating with some people who I rather disliked at the time. But as always, I had Arielle, and other friends.
I was going to go as the Evil Fairy Queen. Mom bought me a black and white velvet gown that was supposed to be a zombie bride costume, but would work as a fairy gown too. She also bought me black glittery wings, and an evil fairy crown and wand.
At school that day, I borrowed Caitlin's insanely high platform Mary-Janes and wore the shredded veil that came with the zombie bride dress. I got laughed at by some bullies, but I thought I looked pretty awesome. I told everyone I was supposed to be Anne Boleyn's ghost, but none of them got it.
Also like last year, I was to meet my friends at the library. Hannah, Caitlin and Nina were there with my then enemies. I felt left out and hurt, but soon Arielle arrived and soothed that hurt. We met up with the rest of the group and headed out. That night was a riot. We tried trick or treating at the funeral home, and got yelled at by the director. The lights were on, and naively, I assumed they were doing something for the holiday. They were not. They were holding a funeral. Mortified, we left hurriedly. Who has a fucking funeral on Halloween?
As we walked around town, we collected more people we knew. We all got pretty rowdy, and when a cop drove by Arielle called him a pig. He pulled over, and we all ran like little bitches while Arielle dove into the bushes. He fined her 500 dollars!
It was a crazy night, and we all got lots of candy. It was the coolest Halloween ever.

Halloween 2007, Age 18: This was a Halloween that should have been awesome, but turned out kind of lame. I went as a Japanese Ghost. Mom made me a white burial kimono, and some tabi socks. I wore a black wig, and we painted my face like a corpse. Then we dumped fake blood all down my front. This was one of the coolest costumes I ever had. I couldn't wear it to school though, so at school I just dressed up as a cat.
Arielle and I went trick or treating, and we brought our friend Tony. All night long, Tony kept introducing himself to everyone person who handed out candy. Eventually Arielle and I got a little annoyed at this. Then Tony and Arielle had a fight. Arielle and I ended up going home much earlier than we wanted, because we were so cold and frustrated. But we had a good amount of candy, and mom ordered pizza because we hungry.

Halloween 2008, Age 19: My friend Kim and I went trick or treating even though we were both much too old. I had gained weight in the past year, and had a lot of trouble planning a costume because of this. Mom bought me a witch costume, made of black velvet and green satin, with fishnet sleeves. The hat that came with it was too small, so she bought me a new one, of green satin with feathers and a spider decorated veil.
This year turned out great. Kim and I had a good time together, and even though we didn't get much candy, it didn't seem to matter. No one seemed to mind that we were adults going trick or treating. If only all Halloweens could be this nice.

Halloween 2009, Age 20: This Halloween, things were looking grim. I was having trouble getting a costume, and all my plans kept falling through. Everyone was bailing on me. But shortly before Halloween I got a job working at a movie theater in Plattsburgh, NY with my Dad. I moved up to Alburg, VT to be with him. Since I had to work on Halloween, and I didn't know anyone in the area, I couldn't go out. But I was determined to celebrate anyway. I couldn't afford to buy a costume, nor did I have time to make one, so I just whipped something up from what I had on hand. I wore my magenta and black tutu, my Nightmare Before Christmas shirt, my striped leggings, silver knee high combat boots and cat ears. Dad bought me some glitter eyeshadow, and I did my makeup as goth and glamorous as I could. Glitter got all over the bathroom.
We drove to work. It was raining, and there weren't a lot of trick or treaters out.
At work, my teenage coworkers oohed and aahed over my outfit. I told them I was just a catgirl, but what I was really supposed to be was a "Zydrate Addicted Scalpel Slut Catgirl".
I watched two movies for free that night. First, I watched Nightmare Before Christmas in 3D, and then I watched Paranormal Activity. I smuggled some candy in to eat, a big bag of Wonka Candy and a Mr. Goodbar of epic proportions. The movie was boring at first. The teenage girls behind me kept squealing like little idiots every time something would happen. It didn't get scary until the end, but the camera work made me nauseous.
When the movie was over, I ate my dinner and read a book while waiting for Dad to finish security so we could clean. Then I changed out of my impractical clothes, and into a witch shirt and khakis, so I could work. I spent the rest of Halloween cleaning movie theaters and bathrooms. When I went to bed that night, I was so spooked by Paranormal Activity, that I slept with the lights on.

Halloween 2010, Age 21: My last year trick or treating. It should have been great but it was a drag. I made a neat pirate costume with a bunch of skirts, a chemise, a shawl made into a vest (the chemise was see-through), boots and a black velvet pirate hat trimmed in gold and a little feather. I went out with Arielle, Allison and Arielle's boyfriend (at the time), Leighton.
A dreary night. I was cold, and I kept getting nosebleeds. People stopped giving out candy at seven PM and we spent most of the night in a bad mood, looking for houses still giving out candy. Arielle and I sniped at each other, and Leighton kept whining about needing coffee. We decided to go home, and I vowed I would never go trick or treating again. I was just too old, and an activity that once held so much joy and wonder for me had lost its charm. I got home, got into pajamas, and ate my candy while watching The Walking Dead with mom.

This Halloween, I'm 22. I'm going as an Evil Fairy again, and my friend Kenny and I are throwing a party. Halloween still has not lost its magic and wonder for me, but I'm ready to celebrate it like an adult, now.

Halloween Memories Part 1

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, even when I was very small. I can remember every Halloween I've ever celebrated, as far back as the age of three. So I am going to bore you with my recollections of Halloweens past. If you are tired of my self-indulgent writing and wish to read no further, I do not blame you.

Halloween 1992, Age Three: This is the earliest Halloween I can recall. We were living in Starksboro, VT at the time. Starksboro is a very small, very rural town. In order to trick or treat, we had to drive to nearby Bristol. I was going as a Medieval princess that year, my Mother was in the SCA at the time, so we had plenty of historically accurate garb on hand. My costume consisted of a green gown trimmed in fake pearls, and a surcoat with a tapestry pattern. I recall that my sister Katie went as an Elfquest Elf, my sister Laura, a clown and my sister Cele was some kind of witch or vampire. My Dad took us trick or treating; I used an old easter basket to hold my candy. I was so little that I rode on my Dad's shoulders. I very vaguely recall meeting up with my aunties and cousins, and being traumatized by my Aunt Elizabeth's alien mask. When the night was over, my Dad took us home and we ate some candy while watching Ghostbusters. I remember wishing I'd gotten some Dots and eating some fruit leather the health food store had been handing out.

Halloween 1993, Age 4: The formula of this Halloween is identical to the year previous. We drove to Bristol to trick or treat, we met up with aunties and cousins, I was traumatized by various masks. This year I was going as a witch. My mother made me an adorable little dress out of velvet and cotton patterned with a Halloween theme. She bought me a vinyl witch hat that she decorated with gold and silver stars and moons. It snowed that year so I wore my little snowboots with the fake rhinestones. Cele went as Joan of Arc, Laura as a vampire and Katie as a gypsy. Mom took us trick or treating this year, and I remember Laura getting in trouble for eating her candy before we got home. We were never allowed to touch our candy until we were home, for reasons I did not understand, also we could only have a couple of pieces. No candy binging in our house, at least not until I reached my teens.

Halloween 1994, Age 5: This year, I went as a star. It was the coolest costume ever. My mom made me a huge foam rubber headpiece covered with silver fabric. I stuck my little head in a hole in the center, and the whole thing was secured with an elastic strap. I wore black leggings and a turtleneck and a little silver tutu. Mom painted little gold and silver stars on my face. I used to have a picture of this epic costume. Laura went as Barbie, Katie went as a dancehall girl and Cele went as an Arabic woman. Her costume was all black and we kept losing her in the darkness. I remember an old lady exclaiming over mine and Laura's costumes. The next day in Kindergarten we had to draw pictures of ourselves trick or treating, but I colored in the black night first, then realized that no one would be able to see my self-portrait. As a result I had an anxiety attack and couldn't finish my project. I had to stay in all recess to try in finish it, but I don't think I ever got it done.

Halloween 1995, Age 6: This was our last Halloween in Starksboro/Bristol. That year, I wanted to go as a fairy princess. My mother made me a costume, but it wasn't what I expected. It was a long white gown and a dark plaid cloak. I wore a blond wig, and a wreath of fake leaves. She painted leaves on my face. It was a fairy costume in the more traditional Celtic sense, as opposed to something glittery and pink. It looked really cute. Katie went as a druid, Laura was a dancehall girl (using Katie's costume from last year) and Cele was B'Elanna Torres from Star Trek. We went trick or treating in Bristol as we always did, and as we walked back to our car so we could go home someone drove by us screaming "Nice costume, kid!". I never knew which one of us she was shouting at or if she was being sarcastic or not.

Halloween 1996, Age 7: In December of 1995, we moved to Winooski, VT. This was our first Halloween there. Trick or treating here was easy, all we had to do was step out the door and roam the neighborhoods. No driving required. That year, I went as a witch. My mom made me a dress out of velvet and polyester, trimmed with black lace. Under it was a patchwork patterned petticoat. She bought me a black velvet witch hat, and I wore a curly red wig. Katie and Laura went as zombies, but Cele did not go out that year. Dad took us trick or treating, and it was so windy that year that my hat and wig kept blowing off. At one point my hat blew so far away from me and I started to cry. My Dad retrieved it for me, and a friendly lady giving out candy gave me a barrette to keep my wig and hat on. I don't remember getting too much candy.

Halloween 1997, Age 8: My mother helped me concoct a gypsy costume out of my neon green belly dancing skirt, and a blue satin blouse. We added a coin necklace and some scarves. Laura went as a warrior princess, and went rick or treating with her best friend. Cele stayed home again. Mom took Kate and out, Kate went as some kind of goblin, druid, but the mask was really uncomfortable, so she left it off. Everyone thought she was the Grim Reaper. We got a lot of candy this year, but I could eat a lot of the chewy stuff because of the jaw spreading hardware I had in my mouth. After we got home, Cele decided she wanted to go out, and she and Katie went to a different part of town and came back with even more candy, plus a little statue of Frankenstein.

Halloween 1998, Age 9: This would be our last Halloween in Winooski. I was going to be going trick or treating with my best friend, Faith, who had Down Syndrome. I was going as Bastet, Egyptian goddess of cats. I wore black leggings and a turtle neck, and a red tabard (in lieu of one of those filmy linen dresses). Mom made me a cool collar with gold fabric and fake jewels. We painted my face with intricate cat makeup, and did my hair in the Egyptian style and sprayed it black. Laura went as Tank Girl, Katie was a tree spirit, and Cele was a ghost bride. As Faith's babysitter, Laura had to tag along, so she went with me, Faith, Faith's sister, Rose and Faith's mom. Katie and Cele went trick or treating together. I got an obscene amount of candy that year. Since Faith's mom drove us around town we could visit more neighborhoods. At that point in my life, that was probably the coolest Halloween ever. At least, I consider that costume to be my coolest ever.

Halloween 1999, Age 10: Earlier that month, we moved from Winooski, to Witherbee, NY. I was a very nerdy kid, and decided to go as a Gibson Girl (don't know what that is, look it up) I wore a lacy white dress, and a large hat with flowers. Mom gave me an Edwardian Pompadour. A week before the big day, I went to a Halloween Dance and nobody got what I was supposed to be.
Halloween was on a Saturday that year, and my Dad took my trick or treating. There was a curfew for the town, and we only had from five PM until 7 PM. I found this ridiculous, but I had a good time, anyway, even though that year I was the only kid in the family going out. Kate stayed home. I didn't get a lot of candy, but I really treasure the memory of spending time with my Dad. When I got home, I broke my tooth on an ice cube.

Halloween 2000, Age 11: What a year this had been! My parents had divorced months earlier, we'd moved twice that year and now it was just Mom, Kate and I living in Willsboro, NY. That year, I went as a witch. Mom bought me this gorgeous sheer black witch hat with gold stars, at Spencer's and I wore a black dress, with another dress, made out of a gold-striped sheer fabric right over it. Mom bought me some pretty lavender lipstick and matching eyeshadow. I went to school in costume, and even though I was the class loser, no one made fun of me. I participated in the school's Halloween parade (though I was the only 6th grader to do so). Katie took me trick or treating. We had a good time, even though it was freezing cold. When we got home, we ate candy and watched The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Cemetery Review #2

At last, a second installment of cemetery reviews! Last month, I had the good fortune to visit two very old and gorgeous cemeteries in Manchester, New Hampshire. I'll be reviewing them, and I'll be reviewing an old favorite from Windsor, Vermont. Enjoy!

1. Old South Church Cemetery, Windsor, Vermont
Old South Church Cemetery sits in the the churchyard of the Old South Church in downtown Windsor. It is a very simple and small graveyard, but it is quite pretty and attracts tourists in the fall. It seems to have been founded sometime in the mid-to-late 18th century, and is no longer active. The last burial seems to have taken place in the late 19th or early 20th century. The oldest gravestones are in the back, while the newest are in the front, a common layout with most graveyards, It has plenty of slate headstones dating from the late 18th and early 19th centuries, featuring soul effigies, urns and weeping willow trees. There are a few interesting epitaphs, including one that briefly describes the deceased cause of death: "Thrown from a Train,". Another describes "A Negro Servant who Died in Christ" and there are also a few beautiful poems, and even some Shakespeare quotes to be found.
The gravestone are in decent condition. Some of the them are damaged, especially the slate ones. Some of been repaired, but there are plenty of fallen stones, and even an old slate gravestone that has split, and is now coming apart in flakes. But most of the monuments are legible, except for a few cases where it has faded completely or where there the stone had broken off and gone missing, save for the base. A few broken and misplaced stone lean against the door of the cold storage crypt. My guess is that the damage is caused by a combination of vandalism and nature's wear and tear.
The grounds are fairly well kept. The grass is mowed, but there are lots of un-raked leaves and fallen branches. One grave stone is almost complete overgrown by brambles, which is a shame, as it is a beautiful old slate monument with a carving of a heart.
There is very little garbage in the cemetery, except for the odd bottle or drink container now and then. Overall, the cemetery is in rather good condition. Some family plots are cordoned off with ornate iron fences, but the cemetery itself only has fencing along the back and the sides of the property lines. The front of the cemetery is completely open, you can stroll into the cemetery at anytime, though I wouldn't recommend doing so after dark, as the police would most likely be patrolling the area.
The cemetery has a small population of squirrels and crows. The crows' cawing lends a rather eerie atmosphere to the cemetery.
I have never experienced anything outright paranormal in the cemetery. I have never seen or heard any ghosts in the Old South Church cemetery. But there are certain spots in the back corner and right behind the church itself that give off strange vibes. My favorite part of the cemetery is a small hill near the cold storage crypt. There is a grave on that hill belonging to a 13 year old girl named Sarah Millins, who died sometime in the 1810's. I feel oddly attached to this particular grave, for reasons I cannot explain. Every time I visit the Old South Church cemetery, I feel compelled to leave a flower at this young lady's grave and share a few kind words with her.
There appear to be a few graves belong to notable locals. I haven't seen this cemetery in over a year, but I would like to visit it again sometime soon. It is a Vermont cemetery worth visiting, especially if you enjoy slate headstones and interesting epitaphs.

2. Pine Grove Cemetery, Manchester, New Hampshire
This is without a single doubt, the biggest cemetery I have ever visited. It is so big, that you can't see all of it in one day. It is the largest cemetery in New Hampshire, according to a caretaker I talked to.
It appears to have been founded in the 1850's, when the Valley Cemetery ran out of room. It is still active, with lots of room to expand. It has a public mausoleum (which I did not visit), and even a pond with little stone bridges. There are thousands of gorgeous monuments, with lots of ornate statues, carvings and very opulent mausoleums belonging to the wealthy denizens of Manchester, featuring stained glass. There are gravestones, both modern and from the last century featuring photos of the deceased. There are two Civil War memorials. There is also a large chapel and a caretakers buildings. I could spend hours telling you about the individual mausoleums and graves I fell in love with, but not wanting to bore you anymore than I already am, I won't.
The monuments are in fantastic condition! I saw only a handful broken stones, most of them old marble ones from the 1850's.
The grounds are incredibly well kept, the grass mowed. There were fallen leaves, but that is to be expected. There were very few fallen branches. The newer sections are better kept than the old ones, and the section with the big Gilded Age mausoleums are better kept than the older part of the cemetery dating from the 1850's.
Is Pine Grove haunted? I did experience some strange activity at the Hill Mausoleum. Pictures I had taken of the inside of this particular mausoleum yielded strange phenomena, such as mist and orbs. I have also experienced freezing cold drafts coming from the mausoleum and feelings of utter terror. As a result, I avoid this monument. Otherwise, I do not think the cemetery is haunted. Overall, the place has some very comfortable, and almost familiar feelings for me.
Plenty of wealthy and notable people are buried there, but I couldn't tell you who the hell they are. Some of my favorite monuments consist of a statue of a woman and a little girl, a large sandstone monument (that's starting to crumble in places), a stone tree trunk featuring a life-sized lamb and dove and a pair of ceramic monuments shaped like open books.
This cemetery is definitely worth a trip to Manchester, and it's perhaps the most beautiful cemetery I've ever had the opportunity to visit.

3. Valley Cemetery, Manchester, New Hampshire
This is the most interesting cemetery I've ever visited. The cemetery was founded in the 1840's and was designed to be a garden cemetery. Most of the graves are located on a terraced ring of land, in the center is a valley which gives the cemetery it's name. There are very few graves in this valley. Valley Cemetery is no longer active.
The cemetery features a few slate stones from the 1840's, a couple of statues and a some mausoleums. There is also a lovely chapel, with a fountain, though that fountain appears to need repair. There are lots of beautiful carvings.
The cemetery is in sad condition, but thankfully, there has been an ongoing project to restore this beautiful, historic location to its former glory. A lot of gravestones are broken or damaged, and there are a few gravestones in the center valley of the cemetery that are overgrown and abandoned. The damage to various monuments appears to be a combination of the elements and vandalism. Some gravestones have been repaired, and some have not. There is some trash here and there, left by inconsiderate people. But like I already mentioned, there is a restoration project underway, and they're doing a wonderful job. The cemetery, even with its damage is still quite breathtaking.
While I did not experience anything outright paranormal in this cemetery, I did sense feelings of sadness and anger in areas where gravestones were broken or abandoned, especially in the center valley, where there were some isolated and overgrown stones. Otherwise, the areas that had been restored, felt peaceful. I also had overwhelming sensations of familiarity in certain parts of the cemetery, particularly near some damaged stones with ornate flower carvings, and near a mausoleum that overlooked the valley.
The cemetery contains several notable people, including several governors and mayors. There is also a website you can visit that contains information on the cemetery, you can find the link here: http://www.valley-cemetery.com/
Valley Cemetery is a gorgeous piece of history that shouldn't be left to abandon and ruin. I would definitely see this cemetery again and would recommend other to visit it, but as always I ask that people treat this beautiful place with respect.