The Horror of 80s Halloween Costumes: Plastic Bags With Eye Holes

“Nothing builds character like nearly passing out inside a $4 plastic mask shaped like a cartoon.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. Today, we’re summoning the ghosts of 80s Halloween costumes. Those thin, flammable, suffocation‑adjacent plastic nightmares that were basically Glad trash bags with a licensing agreement. If you survived trick‑or‑treating in one of those, congratulations! You’ve already lived through your first near‑death experience before age eight.

Those masks? They trapped heat, sweat, breath, possibly carbon monoxide, lead, and whatever fumes were still off‑gassing from the factory in Taiwan. You’d put that mask on. And instantly feel like you were breathing through a microwaved shower curtain. The eye holes were never aligned with actual human eyes. So, you spent the entire night looking like a confused raccoon trying to navigate a fog machine.

And the costumes themselves? One static‑charged gust of wind and you’d be clinging to your own thighs like a Saran‑wrapped ham. We weren’t “wearing costumes.” We were marinating. Let’s honor the trauma.

10 ICONIC 80s HALLOWEEN COSTUMES THAT WERE BASICALLY OSHA VIOLATIONS

1. Plastic Smurfette

A blue trash bag with a picture of Smurfette printed on the front. Because why be the character when you can just wear a poster of her taped to your torso.

2. He‑Man (But Make It Sweaty)

The mask smelled like burnt crayons and despair. The costume was a plastic bib with “HE‑MAN” written across it in case anyone got confused.

3. Rainbow Brite: The Human Sauna

You looked adorable. You also lost three pounds of water weight in 45 minutes.

4. Darth Vader, But the Dollar Store Version

The mask fogged up instantly, so you spent the night breathing like a pug in a heatwave. The chest panel was printed on like a cereal box prize.

5. Strawberry Shortcake (Now With Berry‑Flavored Suffocation)

The mask had a permanent smile. Which was ironic because you were absolutely not smiling under there.

6. Casper the Friendly Ghost (Who Couldn’t See)

The eye holes were so far apart you needed a friend to guide you like a malfunctioning Roomba.

7. Care Bear With the Melting Face

The mask warped if you left it in the car for more than 12 minutes. Suddenly you were “Melted Grumpy Bear.” A character no one asked for.

8. Cabbage Patch Kid: The Fever Dream Edition

The mask was so round you couldn’t turn your head. You had to rotate your entire body like a forklift.

9. Generic Witch #4

The costume said “WITCH” in giant letters across the chest. Because the 80s believed children were too stupid to identify a hat and broom.

10. Plastic Superman (Who Couldn’t Bend His Knees)

You couldn’t run. You couldn’t sit. You couldn’t breathe. But by God, you could sweat.

And yet here we are. Survivors of the Great Plastic Costume Era. We walked miles in those suffocation sacks. While sweating like rotisserie chickens. Tripping over our own capes. And fogging up masks that smelled like a tire fire. Meanwhile today’s helicopter moms are out here with GPS trackers, reflective vests, hydration packs, and costumes made of breathable bamboo fabric. We survived carbon‑monoxide‑adjacent masks. They’re worried about gluten in the candy. Bye, Felishas. We earned our stripes in the trenches of flammable polyester. Thanks for reading! Tell me about other costume follies?

Affirmation: I am strong. I am resilient. And I have already survived the 80s Halloween Costume Industrial Complex. Nothing can stop me now.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife

Happy Halloween From The 1980’s

“When I look back at the 1980s I pinch myself. Did I really do all that?”

-Cynthia Payne

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about Halloween in the 1980’s. I have always said that the 1980s was the best decade ever. And I still stand by that statement. To get a good laugh about that decade just ask me about Halloween.

First let’s look at the costumes. The popular choices of the plastic costumes were He-Man, She-Ra, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Ghostbusters. For girls, it was Madonna inspired looks with lace gloves and teased hair. And boys were any type of monster costumes. Ben Cooper, Inc. became synonymous with Halloween for generations. The costumes were a plastic masked paired with a vinyl smock. Let’s not forget that the only thing that held the mask on our faces, and what we rested our faith in pending a disaster, consisted of two staples and a rubber band. We, also, always had that asshole friend or sibling who would walk up from behind you and pull that rubber band back and let go with it feeling like you had just been beheaded. Not to mention the tiny hold at the mouth that allowed for only a small amount of air and space to stick the tip of your tongue through that would lead to a sore or a cut by the end of the night. Yes, I wore these as well. Or for some of us costumes consisted of wearing your dad’s oversized clothes representing a hobo. And no costume was complete without using a pillowcase to hold all of our candy. Or the plastic Halloween buckets from McDonald’s in three different options such as “McBoo,” “McPunk’n,” and “McGoblin.”

Halloween decorations at home were not as intricate as they are today. Most homes consisted of carved pumpkins on the porch. And they were accompanied by  grinning skeletons or stuffed scarecrows. Inside our homes paper skeletons or stings of pumpkin lights. And the beloved bowls of candy corn on coffee tables.

The Halloween craze each year began at school with black and orange streamers, paper jack-o-lanterns, and spooky window clings. And then, there were the class parties where we would all parade around school in our costumes and eat cupcakes decorated with plastic spider rings and candy corn. There were even games that still existed like bobbing for apples and pin the nose on the pumpkin. And after all the sugar, the teachers still wanted us all to sit in our desks and be quiet. If you were lucky your school would put on a Halloween event where there was always some type of haunted house in the gym. Communities would also have fall festivals with arts and crafts, games and one thing I always remember was the local Kiwanis Club’s pancake breakfast that is no longer in existence.

Let us also not forget the “Great Candy Scare.” The 80s and 90s peaked with parental concerns about razor blades in apples and poisoned treats. And, yes, our parents checked our treats for such things. The fear led to the rise of “trunk-or-treat” events and parties at community centers offering a perceived “safer” way of celebrating. But the thrill of door-to-door candy collection could never be replaced. At the end of the night, it was customary to dump all your gathered candy into the middle of the floor and begin separating it into piles in order to inventory our candy loot.

Another thing that helped to accentuate the entire Halloween experience were the songs and movies of the time. Michael Jackson’s “Triller” was at every dance. And “The Monster Mash” was the top favorite. Movies such as “Hocus Pocus, “ “The Addams Family,” and “Beetlejuice” were always in rotation. And then for the brave were the low budget movies such as “Halloween” and “A Nightmare on Elm Street” “Friday the 13th” The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” (https://www.that80sdude.com/p/trick-or-treat-a-nostalgic-journey-into-80s-and-90s-halloween, 2024).

I was never allowed to watch those movies. Half of the fun was being able to scream at the television for the intended naked, female actor to RUN! While also screaming, “Don’t go check out the unknown sound, you idiot!”

The major change in this holiday began with the “Satanic Panic” and all out “War on Halloween” which began with conservative Christian groups viewing Halloween as a celebration of the occult and evil. This is when they began the change with alternatives like “Fall Festivals” to discourage participation in the holiday’s perceived demonic themes (https://christopheroxley.substack.com,2024). The panic was about alleged satanic crimes, not the commercialized secular celebration of trick-or-treating and costumes (https://www.cnn.com, 2019). These accusations were largely unfounded, leading to trials, imprisonment, and the destruction of lives with no basis in reality. Christian extremists continue warning people about Halloween being “Satan’s Birthday” which continue to denounce costumes and candy as the gateway to the devil. And they continue to try and convince us to celebrate “Jesus-ween” (https://www.satanictemplewashington.com, 2025).

I, personally, have never sacrificed a goat or a child in a satanic ritual from celebrating Halloween. And starting October 1st every year, I watch horror movies for the entire month. Maybe it’s like the ability to be defiant against restrictions as a minor who grew up in a conservative Christian household. Whatever the reasons, I’ve loved Halloween for the majority of my life. And for many years prior to the development of PTSD from my own trauma, I was a haunted house junkie who went to every “booger house,” haunted maze, and  haunted hayride that I could find.

I don’t believe that celebrating this holiday as something that will keep you from entering the kingdom of heaven. I believe that it’s another holiday to make memories as a child or now with my own children. I think that it’s just a holiday of having fun accompanied by fear of the unknown. And for these reasons Halloween will always be something that I celebrate. Thanks for reading. And to you I say, “Happy Halloween!”

Affirmation: I embrace the magic of this season with an open heart.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

Bang! They Shot Me!

“It’s all fun and games until someone takes a dart to the eye.”

-Unknown

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. As spring begins to make its mark, I start looking forward to having the cubs come spend some time with me during their spring break. The cold nights are beginning to fade. The hummingbirds start scouting for feeders. And many people take this time to rekindle their relationships with the flowers and gardening.

For many of us winter time leaves us with the attitude of blahhhhhh. It certainly does for me. I enjoy leaving my door open and circulating the fresh cool air. Tink and Coco enjoy both the air and watching the bugs and birds of the season. And the boys enjoy going outside down to the creek and playing with water guns. But what never seems to have a particular season are nerf gun wars. And they show no mercy for their friends and family.

Copeland has a place in my little habitat where he takes his mattress and drags it to the top of wooden shelving about 8 feet off the ground and covered by a curtain where he can enjoy some quiet time away from me and big brother, Marshall. This area has become affectionately known as the “Eagle’s Nest.” He normally has a nerf gun close at hand along with his tablet. Marshall usually has his gaming headphones or talking to online friends. And I’m diamond painting or planning things to do while keeping my ears and eyes open taking it all in.

Everything seems to be going good until Copeland fires a random shot at me from behind the curtain nailing me directly in the eyebrow with a nerf gun bullet. I let out a loud, “Ow!” He laughs hysterically which seems to trigger Marshall’s curiosity. Now they both need and want to be a part of the action. I love my boys dearly. However, at this point, they care nothing about their mom or other bystanders’ need for safety. Those foamed bullets with plastic tips began flying from the barrels of various guns striking me in every area of my body. Nerf Gun War: Game On!

They have gathered every bit of the ammo with the exception of maybe five bullets that are given to me. I have absolutely no protective cover. And they have an entire curtain. And I have been forced to try and pick up the landed bullets while still being shot with perfect aim. They can’t seem to aim clothes perfectly in the clothes basket. Nor can they aim their trash into a garbage can. However, they seem to aim perfectly with nerf guns that can have military snipers shaking in their boots.y

I began to tell myself, “Their childish giggling will make it all worth it.”  Soon, though, my entire body is covered in red dots complimentary of hundreds landing shots on my now painful body. I search frantically for cover. Sometimes it’s a roll of toilet paper, towel, blanket or a garbage can. Anything that I can successfully reach, in the moment, becomes a form of cover. And then…I ran out of ammo. I think to myself, “Why didn’t we use protection?!” 

I call, “Time Out! I’m out of ammo!” They say, “Ok! Cease fire! Momma needs to get bullets!” I gingerly drop my cover and observe my wounds not knowing if I’m really alive. My eyebrows are now swollen. And the only feeling that I can identify is OUCH! I begin to hear whispers  and giggles among the offenders. I look up and Pow! I take another one directly to the middle of my forehead. They break out into total sugar drunken laughter while saying, “We love you, momma!” And I reply, “Stop lying! No you don’t! You just shot me in my nipple!” This makes the entire situation that much funnier to them. I say in my loudest and desperate voice, “I wish you would just eat a large clown turd!” And they continue to laugh hysterically.

As I frantically gather bullets near me and fling them in their general direction, they land a barrage of bullets again, completely crushing my self-confidence in my ability to win as if that was even a remote possibility. I hurriedly run into the middle of the floor gathering more bullets and I take one directly in the butt crack. “Ow!” I painfully scream. 

I take my gathered stash that fills the clip that I now have secured in my half working gun. I see my moment while they are making battle plans to get in a cheap shot like the many that my body now shows its evidence. I fire away only for my bullet to land about five feet from my position. They don’t even seem to notice. I fired several more times with the same ferocity. I still don’t even get close to landing a shot. I shout loudly, “This piece of crap gun with no boom!” And my youngest son Copeland laughs harder. I take my remaining bullets and realize my now harsh reality. I have to throw my bullets. They have sabotaged my ability to win this war.

The mayhem eventually dies down. Copeland and whoever else attempting to kill me climbs down out of the “Eagle’s nest” to come look at my battle wounds. They are still laughing and I have a bruised fingernail, swollen elbows, a pulled hamstring, inflamed eyelashes, diminished hearing in my right ear, a runny nose brought on by a direct shot, a burning belly button, red dots up and down my shins, an itchy armpit and farts that sound like a suffering animal needing euthanasia. These wounds I did not have prior to Camp Frat Pad WWIII. 

These moments while painful I wouldn’t trade for one minute. I am able to relive my childhood vicariously through my children with some Advil and an ice pack. And for them, it’s just another fun time with momma where we are making memories while they enjoy being kids. To them, it’s not about whether or not I’m gay or straight. Or how much money I have or don’t have. I’m just momma. And I can do nothing but smile. Later, I would cuddle with my “non-expanding recreational foam experts.”

“All is fair in love and Nerf war.”

-Unknown

***Don’t forget to watch the video! Copeland chose the song for this blog.***

#Thispuzzledlife