Of course, while being mugged, attacked and sprayed with tear gas all seemed like a fun Thursday evening, somehow I’ll manage to get along without it.

So how do I spend Halloween? I think back to my childhood. I miss trick-or-treating, but I don’t really miss the stress of the holiday. Somehow, I always managed to have a cold on that special night, so whatever brilliant costume I had masterminded was hidden beneath the 12 layers of extra clothing my mother insisted I wear over it.

I remember the single Halloween I wasn’t sick, and I’d have given anything to suffocate under a parka and toboggan that year.

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I was 6 years old, and my mother thought it would be hilarious to dress me up as the Campbell’s soup kid. You know, the round-faced, blue-eyed kids that are always playing soccer and doing other stupid stuff on the red and white label?

I hated that I looked just like them, almost as much as I hated choking the salty broth down twice a week. But my mother had great fun in exploiting my genetic curse that evening nonetheless.

I had a little embroidered sweater with the condensed soup emblem across the front and a big oatmeal box decorated to look like a giant can of the nasty stuff to carry my treats in.

Oh, how I hated that costume.

And, of course, my mother believed in one very important Halloween rule:Whatever clothes had to be purchased for a costume had to be able to be worn for many functions down the road. So, I spent the entire winter that followed trudging around school, hiding my scarlet “C” behind overcoats as my self-consciousness rose to new heights.

Secretly I plotted against Halloween, my mother and every kid who laughed at me from behind Smurf masks and vampire capes and a hundred other costumes I’d have rather been stuck wearing to school until spring.

So, over the years, I guess it’s pretty easy to see why I’ve never been much of a Halloween partier. Big crowds of people have always kind of made me uneasy when costumes were involved. Forget the bank robberies and acts of terrorism and all of the other sinister events made easier by a day when everyone wears masks. I’m just always afraid they’ll laugh at me again.

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Fifteen years later, however, I realize I’ve probably missed out on some fun since then. So maybe I will go out this year. Maybe things will be different. Maybe things will be the same. Maybe, though, I can finally learn to laugh at myself.

On a college student’s budget, I can’t really afford to go all out on a costume. But I’m pretty sure I can use my looks to my advantage. After all, I haven’t really grown much since grammar school, and my family still loves to point at the soup can and say, “Hey, look! Gracey’s modeling these days!” So perhaps mom had the right idea all along. You pick a good costume, and you can get miles and miles out of it before you’ve outgrown it.

In the meantime, if you see a round-faced little kid out at the clubs this weekend, don’t laugh. While you’re all paying way too much for overpriced beers from the bar, I’m going to see if I can’t find some other good uses for this giant hollow treat can.