You don’t need me to tell you that Halloween, as an evening, as an event, definitely shifts as you get older. For one, this thing called ‘booze’ is introduced and this thing called ‘bedtime’ goes to the wayside. But as I am no longer elligible for drunken debaucherous collegeoween, involving unmentionables, falling face first in the ‘Quad’ and stumblethons – and have moved onto youngadultsortofgrownupbuticanbarelypaymyrentandmyhouselookslikeadormandsmellslikeassoween – I found that there are two possible approaches to this event, in terms of one’s garb, and mental perspective on the whole shebang.
One can take the it as excuse to wear a dress one would never have a reason to wear, despite this occasion, and tell yourself/others you are something specific: but really – you are just wearing the dress – as I did, bow dress and all, as a ‘Present.’ To; From.
OR: you can go a la Stella and Elizabeth, my roommates: and say, <em>I am normally cute as all hell, pretty much always, but for halloween, I want to be fat and gross. I want to be a fat, fat manperson. I want to let it all hang out.</em>Which they did. So much respect for them, fans. Seriously, they are so stinking cool, and I am lucky. If you see them on the street, tip your hat.
Stella and Eliz decided to go as Dan and Roseanne, the loveable, chubby low income stars of midday tv. Granted, Stella (Korean by descent, or so she ‘says’ -) decided she wanted to curl her hair and wear make up, rendering her ‘Asian Girl Dan.’ They were a fine pair. A full pictoral report: firstly, readying occured:
Elizabeth poofed of her hair and stuffed of her old lady pants with firm towel wads (which actually made quite an impressive bootay), while Stella donned sweat pants, yelled at Rosanne to make her a sandwich, curled of her hair, and tried (to no avail) to suppress her own stunning prettiness:
I – uh – I put a dress on and put a bow in my hair, and emerged a sort of giant toddlerperson, the Prize indeed for Stella and Elizabeth’s innovations.
And they – well – they looked – amazing. Disturbing, accurate.
Of course, costumes were later thrown to the wayside. Butt and belly towels proved stuffy and hot; I couldn’t sit/stand/be in my presentdress, Elizabeth’s giant tittythings, held together by a large yellow 42DD bra (which later acted as a fine hat) – became irksome, and gradually, layers of our other personages were removed, and we returned home – ourselves – but not until we discovered that doing Apathetic Subway Gymnastics in 34% of your halloween costume – at any age – is pretty great. We were like little girls, but drunker.
But seriously – Dad – we were home by 12. I got to work the next morning 10 minutes early, with time to pick up an egg and cheese toastathon to boot.
See? I am totally growing up, as we all are, as we all should be.