My sister used to dress me. <\/p>\n

Not all the time, just for Halloween. I was her big Ken doll and she took great pride in her costumes for me. Granted the costumes were simple, out-of-the-closet (stop snickering) ready mades like a Pirate, or a Chef or a Cop. Nothing elaborate. But she would unquestioningly dress me up in whatever was around and whatever she thought was fun. I had no say in the matter.<\/p>\n

One year I rebelled. I demanded that I was to be a mummy. I have no clue where I got this idea, but I do remember insisting so much that the dark clouds of tantrums were building on the horizon. My sister thought about it for a moment and then started a test run on my arm, which we ran out of cloth midway. Apparently you needed more than one twin bed sheet to cover a kid in 2″ strips head to toe. I stood firm on my decision and she turned to the only readily available supply we had in the house: toilet paper. <\/p>\n

She started to roll somewhere inside an hour of when I was suppose to go out. Within 30 minutes she had done my arms and legs. She was smart: she made me dress in a white t-shirt and pants to shorten the long task of covering me, but it still took a long time. I’d fidget, the paper would tear, it wouldn’t stay where it should…<\/p>\n

She never got me entirely covered. I looked more like a chubby kid with toilet paper on my head, forearms, legs. <\/p>\n

I remember many people not knowing what I was: Genie? Accident Victim? Snow flake? Q-tip?!?<\/p>\n

I think that was the last time she ever tried. From then on it was store bought onesies with the tongue cutting thin plastic masks. Love her dearly for trying, though!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My sister used to dress me. Not all the time, just for Halloween. I was her big Ken doll and she took great pride in her costumes for me. Granted the costumes were simple, out-of-the-closet (stop snickering) ready mades like a Pirate, or a Chef or a Cop. Nothing elaborate. But she would unquestioningly dress […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":430,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p9WjY-1fk","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4794"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/430"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4794"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4794\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4794"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4794"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4794"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}