Your Costume Party Is Giving Me an Identity Crisis

I need to say, before I go any further, that I have the BEST friends in the world. They let me go months without seeing them and still invite me to their birthday parties without ever calling me out on my social-lameness.

So an old friend (hereby referred to as Freckled Goddess) invited me to her birthday party- which is tonight! I'm so excited! People! And a goat! Whooopee!

Wait. The Freckled Goddess updated the Facebook event? Probably no big deal, right?

WRONG. The Freckled Goddess created hell. Right here. Because she made it a costume party based on "What you wanted to be when you grew up".  Crap.

It wouldn't have mattered if I had paid attention when she updated the event on Facebook a month ago.  I thought and thought and thought and COULD NOT, FOR THE LIFE OF ME, recall what I wanted to be when I grew up. I really don't know. I thought my brother was super-cool, but that's not a career goal as much as it is an envy of being allowed to wear pants to church and the super-natural ability to scare away monsters at bedtime.

Did I not have any goals as a child? What's wrong with me? I didn't want to be a doctor or a nurse or a teacher or a firefighter. I didn't even have the awesomeness to want to be a hip-hop ballerina! Why didn't I think of that?

I told myself- don't panic. You can just make something up and no-one will know. But I didn't believe myself. The scene in my head was dramatic: I come to the Freckled Goddess's party dressed as a librarian (which, in retrospect, would have been a really good career for me). Everyone who ever saw me get yelled at for being too loud and weird sends me laser-beams of eyeball scorn. The Freckled Goddess comes up and says "No Goat for YOU! This is not even mediocre effort. Go home!"

Really, this is how I imagine social interactions in my head. I wish I was kidding. Please don't be sad for me, I'm not looking for pity, because afterwards, when it doesn't happen like that, I not only get more happiness than I was anticipating but also the added benefit of having a good-natured laugh at myself.

I think I could also consider making awesome
masks as an alternate career path,
but I'm starting so worry about my lack of focus here.

So I thought, okay, sarcasm has always won the day for me. I've always wanted a really cool mask. What if I made a mask, and said "When I was little, I always wanted to be a person with an awesome mask." Then, not only would I have a costume to wear, but I would have a cool mask.

I didn't have a mask, though, so I skipped dinner, went to Hobby Lobby, and bought a whole mess of crafty stuff. Glitter, feathers, a mask. I went home, put The Offspring to bed, and ignored the eye-rolling of The Husband. I was on a mission. And I succeeded! I got a little hot glue on the carpet, but all in all it is a super cool mask. I'm pretty proud of this effort, and I think it exceeds the minimum requirement of mediocrity set by the Freckled Goddess. I put the mask on the shelf and went to bed feeling very satisfied with myself.

I woke up at three o'clock in the morning. I was worrying that people would not believe my excuse for wearing a mask. Maybe I should consider getting help.

So I will not be wearing my mask tonight (but I will put up pictures tomorrow, because I need the world to see its awesomeness). Instead you will have to bear witness to my pun-tastic sense of humor. I will show you, you will see. You may even believe that I had a career goal as a child, and let me have some goat. Unless you're even cooler than I think you are, and you read this blog.

I have full faith in your ability to tell what I am. If you can figure out  WHICH one I am. Because my costume is so awesome it is a COMPLETE disguise.