So I spent months in research to capture the true spirit of Ursula the Sea-Witch-with-a-W in hearty DIY fashion. Turns out that wrestling long, narrow sheets of plastic around errant purple balloons is as much fun as you can imagine and resembled tentacles in the same way that my requested haircut EXACTLY resembled that of Jennifer Aniston's. Okay. New plan. Order a ready-to-go model. "I didn't know that they sold a "slutty" Ursula costume," Brad said with sudden interest, leaning over my shoulder as I scrolled past one inappropriate version after another. By the time I finally found a design that actually covered more than 65% of my body though, he'd wandered away.
The box arrived in plenty of time. "I look like an obese octopus," I said dismally. "Aren't you suppose to look like an octopus," Sydney answered off-handedly, looking quite fetching in her Royals gear. "What are you suppose to be," I snapped, peevishly. "I'm Erica Hosmer," she smiled, spinning in her white skirt. "Shouldn't your skirt cover more than 65% of your body," I commented, my vengeful spirit capturing Brad's attention as he requested a late inning skirt substitution. Unable to dispute the ruling of the head umpire, Sydney stomped off.
"I need an Ursula wig," I whined sadly, mourning the eventual loss of my bangs which will leave more than 65% of my face exposed to critical public inspection. Don't believe me? Check out this recent conversation with a darling 4th grader.
Darling 4th grader (head tilted, staring lovingly into my eyes): Mrs. Mosiman...you should be a witch next year. You have the perfect nose for it.
Brad combed store Halloween sections for appropriate wigs (See what I did there? Combed/wigs...do you really think such brilliant writing happens on its own, People!), sending me photos for approval. All the white ones sported attractive bangs. I waffled. Why couldn't Ursula have attractive bangs? Brad could only find one wig that stood straight up in an Ursula-style Pompadour. "Buy it," I texted morosely.
"I look like an obese octopus with bright purple Troll hair," I said glumly. Brad was more concerned with my stylish elastic waist band. "What if a kid steps on a tentacle," he asked, "What do you have on UNDER your costume?" Great. Like I didn't have enough worries.
My glam squad arrived to transform me into a villainous character that in no-way-shape-or-form would resemble Amy Mosiman. With her extensive background in costuming and make-up design, I was in the sure-and-steady hands of my friend Amy. Except she didn't count on my utter lack of make-up know-how to get in her way as I flinched like I was under-going the "poof" test for glaucoma. Amy finally employed a head-lock to apply my eye make-up. "Didn't I tell you to get black," she asked gently as she was forced to apply red liner to my brows and eyes.
"I look like an obese albino octopus with bright purple Troll hair and a tremulous grasp on her elastic waistband," I cried, "and you can tell that it's ME!" Amy grabbed tissues. "Don't cry," she said, alarmed, "your eyes are already red enough."It was go-time. I was (65%) committed to this situation and, by golly, now was the time to sell it. Troll wig held high, rounded shoulders slightly squared, a cloud of tentacles swirling about my feet, I sailed off to join my fellow Disney villains. It wasn't enough that we had to parade around a packed gymnasium. No...we would also have to perform an attention-getting dance too. I will never be late to another meeting again.
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