You wait all year and you make your preparations. Halloween. The witch’s Christmas. My mother was being difficult. And my outfit was all wrong.
I took off the hat. The pointy top was making my face look chubby.
“If you’re going to be a witch for Halloween,” my mother said, “you should really wear the hat.”
I turned on her. “Uh, I’m already a witch every day and you don’t see me running around with a broomstick, do you? I really don’t think we should play into stereotypes by wearing ridiculous costumes.”
There was more to it than that. But really, the hat just made my face look chubby.
For every insistence my mother had, my power against her will was challenging. But my mother always got her way in the end.
“I’m not wearing it!” I finally announce, turning for the stairs.
“Fine, have it your way”, my mother called.
There was a flash of light behind me. It made my head tingle.
Back in my room, I got ready for the celebration. I felt empowered. Mother didn’t pursue with her usual persistence. And I removed my hat.
“MOTHER!” I cackled, “how could you?”
The image that returned its gaze from my vanity mirror was hideous. My head was the exact shape as my hat.
“Something wrong, sweetie?” Mother mocked.
“Look at my head” I yelled. “How could you?” I repeated.
“At least your face isn’t chubby anymore,” Mom smiled, “Now, it’s long! And pointy”
“What am I supposed to do now?” I cried.
“Wear the hat, dear! No one will even notice your head!” Mom smirked