Take the wearing of Halloween costumes. I've donned all sorts of crazy things in the name of fun, including a streetwalker outfit that almost got me arrested once, and a cowboy's gun belt that some kid stole the fake pistol out of and held it against my back, parading me around an entire carnival as if he were an Old West sheriff and I an outlaw. Embarrassing, to say the least, but I always went back the next year for more.
During the years I was in LTC management, dressing up for Halloween wasn't encouraged, so I'd wear orange-and-black fingernail polish and maybe a jack-o-lantern pin and call it good. Where I work now, however, it's not only allowed, but actively promoted by everyone from the DNS on down to the actitivities director "because the residents love it".
Well, the eight-year-old who lives inside this late-middle-aged body loves all things holiday (I am perhaps the only person on earth who owns a PLAID Santa Claus hat), so I leapt at the chance to wear my pirate wench costume from Halloweens past. It's a homemade outfit complete with a long skirt and matching sash, a white tunic top, striped socks, boots, a scabbard to keep my sword in (a real one, not one of those cheap plastic things you find in Target), and even a pirate do-rag. ARRRRRRRRR, matey!
My first inkling that this outfit was going to be trouble came when I realized that I hadn't worn any of its components in several years, and even having lost a fairly significant amount of weight in recent months, I'd forgotten that while I had changed sizes, the costume had not. The shirt hung on me like a flour sack, and the skirt promptly slid down to my hips when I put it on. Even the boots were bigger than I remembered. Fortunately, I had another white tunic top that fit me better; adding another pair of socks under the stripey ones solved the footwear issue, and I dealt with the skirt by rolling up the waistband several times and cinching the whole thing with the sash.
I had to readjust the outfit when I got out of the car, and whenever I stood up or sat down; otherwise, the costume was a huge hit with residents and staff alike. Unfortunately, however, the shift wasn't even half over before "Gwyn, The Avenger of the Spanish Main" got tired of the sword banging against her leg.........the skirt heading South and tripping her every time she pushed her med cart down the hall........the sweat dripping from under the do-rag. Actually, Gwyn was just tired, period---who knew ten pounds of costume accessories could wear one out like this?
So, once the residents' party was over and the families were gone, I decided to lose the extras and simply finish the shift in the gauzy tunic and skirt, which were at least cool and comfortable (anyone who's ever worked in a nursing home knows how insanely hot these places are).....if not terribly functional. Trouble was, once I took off the sash, I could no longer be sure of the skirt, which threatened to slide down my hips every time I exhaled. I tried a safety pin, which promptly stabbed me in the abdomen when I bent over to retrieve a used insulin syringe I'd accidentally dropped into a trash can instead of the sharps box.
"Pin it around your neck, and maybe it'll be useful," suggested the CNA who'd just seen me stumble over the hem for the tenth time.
"Can you hike it up over your chest?" offered another. I am rather substantial on top, and this seemed like the best idea yet, so I tried it. It lasted as long as I stayed seated, but once I was up and running around the floor it would begin to slip.......first down the back, then off the front. So I wound up working most of the rest of the evening with a death grip on the waistband and part of the skirt itself, cursing myself for not even thinking to bring a change of clothes and wondering why it had never occurred to me that an outfit I wore sixty-five pounds ago might not fit me anymore.
Then it happened.
I was standing at the med cart, giving direction to a CNA who isn't what I'd call the brightest bulb in the chandelier and pulling a PRN pain med for a resident whose phantom limb pain was kicking up, when I got distracted by another resident who likes to pat us "girls" on the backside. Startled, I whirled around...........and my skirt fell off. It fell off. It fell the heck OFF, landing in a multicolored puddle around my ankles and giving the flirtatious resident more than just a glance at my, um, assets.
Next Halloween, I think I'll just dress all in white and wear my nurse's cap......it may not be much of a 'costume', but at least it won't give everyone something they'll talk about till Christmas!
