Once again, I'm putting my life onto a website and assuming it will remain protected - doesn't make much sense.

I've just had a wonderful conversation with Mom about how much she always loved me and my sister. How we always knew; there was always a hug, a note in our lunch box, and an 'I love you' before every hang up. So I got a little reminiscent and looked at some old photos and have noticed that costume pieces have always been a part of my life.

It seems odd - we all like to dress our children up to showcase them . . . but I took that and ran with it. I remember my mother having to hide my Halloween costume and I was rewarded with being able to play with it. My costumes were my favorite toys. I remember them vividly; The purple Ninja Turtle, belt found usually on my head, the hill billy teeth, proudly worn with my sister, the fake facial piercings I would use to welcome Grandma when she came to visit, the ever sought after rainbow-suspenders, glue-on facial hair and all of the mishaps that come along with it, and Sunday's Marathon: PINK TIGHTS.

I define myself through my costume pieces. When I do things I love. Things I crave. I do them with costume.

When I shine at work - I'm trying to motivate these kids making next to nothing to make a kid's day, I do it with a mustache, ganster hat, and rainbow suspenders.

When I play with my siblings - First step in every game is donning a cape or cloak of some kind.

When I run a fucking marathon - Pink tights, pink headband, and of course . . . Superman undies.

I love costume. I love becoming someone new and being able to experience new things and try on new personalities, merely because I'm wearing a wig. I show who I really am when I'm in costume. Impulsive. Creative. Selfish. Loving. Active. Hedonistic. I can be anyone. I can create and communicate with new people. It's my connection to children. My costume.