Death in a Tigger Costume

I volunteered at a Halloween event.

It was at a high-end mall and they had games, candy, giveaways, promo booths, music, etc. Each parent had to pay an entry fee to get their kid in, and all the proceeds benefited charity.

My friends and I showed up and they only had “costumed character” volunteer opportunity spots open. Since we did this last year and saw all the costumed people walking around, we were pretty psyched to be able to do it this year.

My friend chose Scooby Doo, another friend chose Sully from Monsters Inc., and I went for Tigger.
We’re talking FULL COSTUMES. Head, furry suit, paws, feet. So I got in mine, got all velcroed in, put the head on and immediately realized there were only 2 screened airholes (through Tigger’s eyes) for me to breathe through. Panic set in. I felt like I was being buried alive, but instead, I was being buried in a Tigger suit. I calmed myself down and said, “It’s ok…it’s ok….millions of other people do this….you can breathe…you have plenty of air…..relax…..”

Sidebar: when getting dressed that morning, I put on layers since it was a brisk 53 degrees. In my BEDROOM. I put on my baby yellow tanktop that has a rollerskate and says, “Hottie on Wheels”  (thank you Spank for giving me that as a present one year). And with that, I put on my red lace bra because it was the first thing I grabbed. As I put this all together, realizing you could see the bra through the tanktop, I was like, “Well….it’s cold out…I’ll be in layers, not like anyone will see this getup.” Ohhhhhhhhhh…but then I volunteered to suffocate myself in a god-da** Tigger costume. So I was wearing just the tanktop and my stupid bra was very visible. On top of that, since my jeans were so hot, I threw on the bottom half of the “doctor” costume and wore scrubs that were a size 4x. I was walking down the mall wearing light turquoise 4x scrubs, and a hottie on wheels tanktop. What a train wreck.

Ok, it was go time. We walked out from our staging area, through the mall and start shmoozing with the kids. I could sort of see through the eye holes, so I was leading the parade of characters: Big Bird, Giant Dog, Elmo, Winnie-the-Pooh, Curious George, Clifford-the-big-red-dog, Barney-the-dinosaur. It was right about at this point when my friend “Scooby” realized she couldn’t see a freaking thing because Scooby’s head was so tall.

Time: 15 minutes have gone by. I was still ok, starting to feel a little warm.

Some father had a little daughter who looked like Cindy Lou Who from the Grinch Who Stole Christmas and kept trying to get her to say hello to me. Cue midsize freakout. She wanted no part of my business. He tried like 3 or 4 times and she still was turning away and crying.

Time: 30 minutes have gone by. Sweating has ensued. My hot breath is ricocheting back into my face. The mint gum smell is helping, but definitely not pulling any kind of Christmas miracle to help cool me off like in the Dentyne commercials.

Time: 45 minutes. Pure sweat is coarsing down my face. In my eyes. In my mouth. the gloves will not slip from my hands because they’re stuck on. I can no longer pretend this is ok. I start to return to the staging area when I feel a tug at my striped furry pants. It’s Cindy Lou Who. And she wants a high-five. Awwww….HIGH FIVE to you, cutest most adorable kid ever. BUT…I’ve got business….moving on…back to the staging area…oh, another tug. Cindy Lou Who now wants to shake my paw. Awww…..SHAKE, shake, you’re too cute Cindy. BUT….moving on….back to the staging area….oh, another tug…Cindy now wants a hug. A HUG! From the cutest, most adorable little thing…why yes you can hug my sweat-soaked fur! Don’t mind Tigger’s snout smacking you in the face because I can no longer see out the screened eyeholes. I’m blind due to my own sweat. BUT…moving on….and another tug on my fur. Ok, Cindy Lou Who…..what the EFF can I do to help you this time? OH…god….so cute…she is now holding onto Tigger’s paw and walking to…oh no….to the staging area…..NO…THERE IS NO ESCAPE….PURE IRRATIONAL FEAR SETS IN….THIS IS NOW TORTURE….I’M GOING TO DIE IN THIS COSTUME….but CIndy Lou Who….I will curl up in the corner and pretend to sleep. I WILL NOT LET HER DOWN….

Finally, for the love of something holy, her dad gets her to let go. I walk into the staging area and rip off the Tigger head. There is a pool of my own salty excess in the chin of Tigger. It was the WORST 45 minutes of my life.

Until I rested for 30 minutes. And went back out.

THOSE were the worst 45 minutes of my life. We got back and the inside of my costume was soaked. The volunteer coordinator says, “Just put all the costumes on top of the bags they came in. Great, thanks guys. That’s great, the next shift is here.”

?!?!??! Next shift? So some poor volunteer is going to…oh god….no….he says, “Oh yea….and if you think THAT’S bad, feel sorry for second shift tomorrow.”

I now bow out of respect to anyone in costume.