Protest

You shake your head. "No, Mom, you don't understand," you argued. She took a look in your direction, raising an eyebrow. It'd be humiliating to just go out like this without at least an attempt to do something else, or fight.

"Okay, fine. I'll tell you what. I'll phone your babysitter, Ashley, and get her to help you with it, okay? She's supposed to come over later anyways," your mom yawns, holding a small a hand up to her mouth. She slowly walks up to her room, but seems to pause at the top of the stairs, turning.

"Unless you'd like me to help you get ready and be passable? I can do that. It's either me or Ashley. You are going to take your sister trick or treating, so as far as I see it you have three options. I help you look the part, Ashley does, or you go out as you are. Your choice, sweetie."

You start to sweat.