My Brief Time as a Cow

One of my very first memories is of Halloween one year when I was three or four.

I can't remember what my mother or brother dressed as, but I remember my father was wearing a flannel red shirt and fake monster teeth. He put them in before we left, turned to us and snarled, and my brother laughed while I screamed bloody murder, certain father had morphed into a child-eating monster.

My parents, either because they thought it was cute or because they wanted to make sure I had something to tell my therapist later, dressed me as a cow.



And, really, I loved my outfit. I didn't understand that I was supposed to moo, or act like a cow, all I understood was that I got to carry a bell around my neck and it made music when I stumbled around the room (I was not a very coordinated child)

It wasn't just any bell, either.
It was one of my fathers large Tibetan Prayer bells.

And it was used as a prop to make me look more bovine.



I loved everything about the costume. It was soft and felt, I was warm the entire night, and people thought I was the cutest thing ever born.

We went to an adult Halloween party at some sort of school gymnasium, and I spent hours being fawned over and cooed to, and given plenty of sugar.

After the adults tired of telling me what a cute little cow I was, I started wondering around, listening to my over-sized prayer bell ring as I galumphed through the party, trying not to run into people.

At some point, this became boring. I decided I wanted to go home and get out of my cow outfit now that no one found me cute anymore.

I looked up.
I saw plenty of adults in plenty of ridiculous costumes.
I couldn't see my mom.
I couldn't see my father.
I couldn't see my brother.



There's a moment in every little girls life when she suddenly realizes that she has no idea where her parents are.
I experienced this moment while surrounded by monsters, and dressed as a cow.





So I did what any responsible child would do.

I flung myself on the ground and threw the biggest temper tantrum imaginable.



They could hear me in Hong Kong.
I screamed and I wailed, and I put all my cow injustice into those tears.


I honestly can't remember if my parents came running to my rescue, drawn to my tortured screams.

I remember someone gave me a snickers bar, to calm me down.



It worked.