I should have been going to bed but wrote a short piece for Halloween instead. I hope y'all enjoy it.

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Tamara looked at herself in the mirror.

It was the same costume she wore every year at the haunted house. The mask, the paws, the heavy suit and large, awkward boots. It all added up to the same image of a large, hulking wolf creature, there to terrorize the teens and adults (and, when she was lucky, give candy to the kids who were brave enough not to run away.) It was manky looking, and stank to high heaven, that mixture of rubber, sweat, and mothballs from storage that no method they'd tried could ever get to go away.

She usually ended up burning the clothes she wore underneath it, since they always smelled just as bad after.

She frowned at her reflection, the wolf head still tucked under her arm, as she considered the trials she would be facing the next week. The days when it would be so hot in the suit she'd be marinating in her own juices, sometimes followed by days or nights where she'd be shivering as she stood stock-still in the graveyard or the haunted woods and waited. Her muscles and back would be sore every night, and her feet swollen, and her hair, don't even get STARTED on her hair!

It was the same every year, but like so many others she came back, time and again. Some said they did it for the charity, since all time was donated and the proceeds the haunted house would bring in went to the children's hospital down the street. Some claimed they liked being able to let the monster inside out, even if just for a few nights of the year. Tamara knew the truth though: they all did it because, deep inside, they all had an extra scoop of Kid tucked away, just as excited about Halloween as any of the young ones who would come through dressed up for trick or treating.

This year, she mused, she had even more to look forward to.

It was the same costume she wore every year at the haunted house. The mask, the paws, the heavy suit and large, awkward boots. It all added up to the same image of a large, hulking wolf creature, there to terrorize the teens and adults (and, when she was lucky, give candy to the kids who were brave enough not to run away.) It was manky looking, and stank to high heaven, that mixture of rubber, sweat, and mothballs from storage that no method they'd tried could ever get to go away.

This year, though, she wouldn't be burning the clothes she wore under neath it. She would be saving them as mementoes, since it was the last year she would be the wolf creature. Much like so many other costumes she had been wearing over the years, she would be discarding this one in favor of one that fit her better.

Tamara smiled as she donned the mask for her final showing, not as the wolf man, but as the wolf woman. A new recruit would be shadowing her that night, learning the spots and cues. He was big and strong, traits she could easily tell the hormones had impacted on her own diminishing frame, though the weight she had lost made the suit lighter, more nimble, than it had been ever before. She did her scares, her growls and her snarls, and enjoyed every yelp, scream, and laugh she got in return.

She was sure she'd enjoy it even more as the cackling witch the next night, and every night from then on.

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I think it's pretty safe to say that most if not everyone here has some familiarity with wearing costumes, if not of the physical variety then the mental kind. Trans or not, everyone has experienced those times when you were forced to convey an image that didn't fit the person you felt like you were on the inside.

And most important of all, no matter what costume you wear, remember: you're still you underneath it all, and that's all that's important.