Giving In To Slutty Halloween Costume Peer Pressure


372013_1265401407739_fullI 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. 

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My First Pair Of Heels

CapturePreface: 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:

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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.