Giving In To Slutty Halloween Costume Peer Pressure

October 23, 2015.Reading time 4 minutes.

I remember like it was yesterday, starting my freshman year of college and vowing to myself, “self, you will never dress like a slut for Halloween.” I never did it in high school, so why start now (seriously, one year I was the sailor from the Village People … and the non-sexy version, mind you).

Flash forward to a few months later and there I was in a pirates hat, bra poking out of some Joyce Leslie nightmare, fish nets, hooker heels, and a whip walking to the closest party, cheap vodka in hand. Sigh. To be clear, I’m NOT proud of this moment.

I walked into college with such good intentions. Me and a bunch of my new friends will be the cast of Anchorman (it was 2005). We’ll go to Good Will and get silly suits. I’ll wear a mustache. Everyone will laugh. I’ll be comfortable. All the guys will LOVE it!

But when you’re sitting around your dorm’s common area, hearing your size 2, gorgeous hallmates describe how they are Mean Girls-style turning their lacy bras into bunny costumes … all of a sudden, your “funny” idea doesn’t seem that awesome, and you get this like super human need to out-slut all of these bitches. I blame male attention.

I hauled ass to the nearest Halloween store to piece together a costume that screamed “slut.” Mind you, I barely had enough money to eat, but at this moment in time, a $15 pirate hat, and a $10 whip took precedence. And with my food money, I turned myself into the lamest “pirate hooker” (I still don’t even know if that is really a thing) of all time.

Walking around half naked and half drunk, I felt the opposite of “sexy.” My knee-high fishnets (because why would I buy full fishnets like a normal human being) were falling down, my red lipstick was a granny shade of red instead of a sultry one, I was effing freezing (because pirate hookers don’t wear coats no matter what), and my bra I strategically had slightly sticking out wasn’t even lacy. I failed at slutty Halloween.

I cringe when I think about these moments. Truly I do. Sure, it’s a totally normal “right of passage” to dress like a skank for Halloween in college. I get it. I’m not a prude. I gave in to slutty peer pressue. I cringe, though, because it was, and is, SO not me.

Listen, what I’m trying to get at is, if all of your friends are dressing like the slutty version of something stupid, and it REALLY isn’t your style, like it wasn’t for me, do you. “Slut” isn’t a costume. Be the funny guy and get some laughs. Because let me tell you, there will be so much T&A walking around that night, no one will even notice if your taa was full blown sticking out.

Oh yeah … and if a guy who never talks to you all of a sudden does because you slutted it up, pirate hooker-style, on Halloween … run, don’t walk. Well, kick him in the balls THEN run.

K … bye.

My First Pair Of Heels

November 2, 2014.Reading time 7 minutes.

Preface: This was supposed to have been posted on Halloween, but due to technical difficulties … well … yeah … didn’t. So better late then never, right? (Damn you … technology :::shakes fist:::)

As I prepare for a Halloween filled with the lacking of tricks AND treats, it makes me think back to better Halloween days. When instead of preparing for a BOOzed-filled evening (see what I did there? Ehhh??! No … no … I’ll stop, I promise, continue reading), I was preparing for how much candy I was going to score.

I feel like I should be knitting something and rocking in a rocking chair on my porch when I write the next sentence, but I believe my favorite Halloween was when I was in the 4th grade. Travel back with me now, won’t you?

I was a freak of nature when it came to growth spurts. While the boys were still shopping in the kids section at retailers, I was making my way up to the women’s section, fitting into a size zero jeans, not for the size, but because my legs were freakishly long. It was really cool. Psyche. When you enter into the “women’s section” for the first time, it is horrific, because I felt like I was going to turn into this:

So when I made the decision to be Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz for my 4th grade Halloween party, my mom insisted that I get a great pair of ruby red slippers, not those lame ones that came with the costume from the Halloween store.

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but since I came out of my mother’s womb, I have been obsessed with high heels. I called them “sippy shoes” because of Cinderella. Get it … “sippy” … “Cinderella” … no? Oh shush, I was a child. So you would think the idea of my mom buying me my first pair of high heels would be something dreams were made of, right? Well no. I was too busy digging my claws into the children’s section and refusing to move on up to be bothered with it.

She took me to TJ Maxx … which I LOATHED. I was NOT a Maxxinista when I was a wee one, let me tell you. Nothing bored me more than following my mom around as she looked through racks and racks of clothes that all looked the exact same as Smooth Operator played in the background. Woof. She was certain I would fit into a women’s size 5 or 6 … so we went to the shoe department in hopes of finding the perfect red heel. The only thing I was certain about was that my Aladdin velcro sneakers still fit me perfectly fine from Payless (which they totally did not).

And there they were. A ruby red satin shoe with, I want to say, about an inch and 1/2 block heel. I tried on the 6 1/2, praying to dear sweet Jesus they wouldn’t fit and I could stay a kid forever, but they did. And I secretly adored them. But wanted to cry and jump back in my mother’s uterus all at the same time. Dorothy would have approved of these shoes, so we bought them, as I was secretly having an anxiety attack about wearing high heels to my 4th grade Halloween party and being a gigantic monster more than I already was, towering over the boys, when I just wanted to click my heels together and stay a kid forever.

When it came to fashion at this point in time, I had no balls. I was cool being the wallflower so no one had any reason to laugh or make fun of me. I was the quiet, shy girl who liked to write. So walking into this party in ruby red HEELS was mortifying. But like I said, I would have made out with these shoes if I could because all I ever wanted was a pair of heels that fit. And walking in them was no problem, as I had been strutting around in my moms heels that were WAY too big for me for years like a champ.

Unfortunately I can’t remember the reaction of my classmates. I blame it on being millions of years ago … aaaaand booze. No one laughed or threw anything at me … I recall that, so that’s good. I’m sure I got a, “wow, you’re tall,” as I was towering over my teacher in my ruby red heels. And I remember doing the macarena (yep, I was obsessed with the macarena), and I remember my feet hurting like a bitch after trick-or-treating, but that was about it.

I truly wish I still had these shoes, but at some point I tossed them as they were “90’s nightmares.” Looking back, it took balls to wear heels to a 4th grade Halloween party. Especially as a “tall girl.” How I got said balls, or where I pulled them out from, I have NO clue. But sometimes you just have to give into who you really are and what you really love in life and not give a shit about anyone else and their dumbass opinions. Word.

Happy Halloween, errbody! Feel free to share your fave costume below … would love to hear your embarrassing stories. And for the love, be safe tonight. Don’t be a dumbass. Keep it together and so on.

Ps. Sorry I don’t have a pic to share with you in my Dorothy costume at age 11? 10? How old are you in 4th grade? Anywho it is down in my basement, and like I said, my basement is scary as shit … so no.

Adults And Halloween

October 27, 2014.Reading time 4 minutes.

I adore Halloween. Always have. Well … maybe not so much during my college years since I went against everything I believed in and went as the “sexy” version of non-sexy things … I mean I suppose that is what you do in college. The pictures are cringe-worthy, though, and no I won’t share them with you. Sigh. You live and you dress as a sexy cat and you learn.

This year Halloween falls on Friday, and quite frankly, for adults, that rules. We all secretly would love nothing more than to throw our inhibitions to the wind and go beg for candy … although alcohol would definitely be involved. Clearly. But alas … we cannot. Because it’s weird. So instead of passing out in front of our TVs watching the Peanuts Halloween special on ABC in a candy coma like we once did, we pass out drunk in our kitchens after an energy-filled rendition of Thriller. Not … that I do that … or … anything … :::shifty eyes:::

Being that Halloween falls on a Friday, it really gives us adult-like creatures an excuse to be anything but ourselves. Which is a beautiful thing. But I keep hearing people stressing about costumes and what to be and having nowhere to go. Last year I had a place to go and dressed as the horrifying twins for the Shining. To this day it was the best thing I’ve ever been … turns out I thoroughly enjoy horrifying people. This year, I don’t have anywhere to go, but I DO have this insane urge to wear an amazing mask and maybe some black lipstick. I blame Margiela for this. But if I had it my way I would wear one every single day. Aren’t they dreamy?

Instead of cursing your friends for not having a fantastic Halloween party, or having no one to go with to that exclusive party at “da club” (which no one should ever do … like EVER), or not coming up with an insanely creative costume, I’m taking this as my golden opportunity to wear the things I secretly covet, but don’t wear outside of Halloween because people would look at me like I was crazytown … like a Margiela mask. And I suggest you do the same. Secretly love the Kanye West-inspired leather sweats? Rock that shit. Dreaming of wearing a tutu over your jeans? Now is the time, people, now is the time!

Halloween is the one day a year people cannot judge you. Unless you dress as the sexy version of something, well then people will totally judge you and call you a slut, whether to your face or behind your back. It’s going to happen. Just own it. But if I wanted to wear black lipstick and a mask, no one could talk shit because it is Halloween, for crying out loud. The day when anything goes. And if you do talk shit about people embracing the holiday, well, you straight up suck. Lighten up, bud.

So instead of desperately trying to be a sexy mouse, duh, I challenge you to wear something you have always wanted to, but never had the balls. You don’t have to be defined as something, necessarily. By stepping out of your bubble and rocking an outlandish something or other, like Gaga-esque shoes, or a ball gown for the hell of it, I believe you’re embracing the holiday spirit.

Now excuse me, I need to go work on bedazzling my Margiela-like mask, because GAWD knows I cannot afford the real thing.

Retire Your “Sexy” Cat Ears …

October 28, 2013.Reading time 6 minutes.

… because scary is the new sexy this Halloween.

We’ve all done it, ESPECIALLY if you are a college graduate. You say you won’t wear lingerie, throw on a pair of animal ears and call yourself a “mouse … duh” (it just wouldn’t be Halloween without quoting Mean Girls), but you will and you do … because every girl you know is, and dressing like an ironic tree just doesn’t seem like it would make you the coolest chick at the party anymore.

I was torn this Halloween. Do I go funny … or do I go scary, something I hadn’t done since I dressed like a witch in third grade. Most of the time I go funny … or as a pop culture reference. But this year … I was jonsin’ to scare the shit out of people. Don’t know why … just was. And what is scarier than the twins from The Shining, am I right?

And after attending a party this past weekend where I spent the night freaking people out, including me when I looked in the mirror … I realized that dressing scary is a thousand times better than dressing like a cat whore. I imagine the two guys reading this want to throw sharp objects at me for making a statement like that … but wait, I have my reasoning:

1. The Hotter The Mess The Better: Making yourself look dead is a breath of fresh air from the every day trial and tribulation of trying to make yourself look like a stud. I received more joy out of applying thick amounts of black eyeliner and smearing it down my face then if I was actually trying to perfect the cat eye look. I rubbed eye shadow on my lips to accent my paleness … I did things outside of my makeup comfort zone (since, I try my hardest to, you know, look alive on a daily basis). AND, not to mention, no one could tell if I was drunk or not. In fact at one time I looked at myself in the mirror mortified over how drunk I looked, but realized it was just my awesome death makeup. My biggest concern of the night wasn’t that my whore red lipstick had come off, but that I didn’t look scary enough. When, my friends, will you EVER get this opportunity?! It’s brilliant.

2. Get Comfy: Sure, wearing corsets, fish nets and stilettos seems like a fun idea, in essence, but it sucks. Badly. It literally encompasses everything about Life Sucking In A Strapless Bra. You’re cold, you’re in pain, your God damn fish nets are falling down, you look drunker than you are because you can’t walk in your stilettos, and every 10 seconds you have to keep checking to make sure your giggly bits haven’t popped out of their home for the evening. Awful. Hence why rocking a nightgown from the granny section of Walmart … yep WALMART … and flats was pure genius. I was warm, I kept my figure by belting it with ribbon, AND … my favorite part, I had pockets. POCKETS! I didn’t have to shove my phone in my cleavage, for once.

3. That’s a Scary Mask, Bro: I got to scare the shit out of people for funsies. I mean, this one speaks for itself. If there was someone chatting with me that I didn’t want to entertain anymore, I would just turn on the Shining charm, angle my face down and look seriously frightening. Memo was received after that one.

4. No Competition: Girls spend more time than you think trying to make themselves look like an amazingly, beautiful version of themselves in pop star/whorish cat form. And when a hotter version of your costume would waltz in to the party, it would crush your evening and make you want to lose your voice talking shit. But when you are dressed as a zombie twin … it doesn’t matter. Oh hey, 14 versions of Lady Gaga … what’s good? I’m going to go twerk in my granny gown from Walmart. Byeeeee.

So there you have it, ladies. Don’t be afraid to get a little scary … it rules, mostly because of the comfort level. I don’t want to act like an ACTUAL granny here, but if you think guys will want to talk to you more just because you threw on some fish nets, short shorts and called yourself some sort of woodland creature … well, for shame. Have fun … that’s what Halloween is all about. I had fun scaring people … and if being a whorish squirrel will make your evening come alive … then so be it … who the hell am I to judge!

Happy Halloween, kids!

Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra

Tag: Halloween costumes