I never know what to be for Halloween. I joked with my friends the other week that I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go as a “sexy slut or a sexy prostitute” for the evening.
“What about sexy promiscuity?” my friend Amanda asked.
“Maybe,” I say, “I should go as a sexy thesaurus.”
It’s gone too far. It’s to the point where you can put the adjective “sexy” in front of anything and it becomes a costume and that makes it totally okay to walk around town with your tushy hanging out. For some reason, self-respecting women everywhere have declared a silent ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ policy on Halloween. It has become the one day a year we’re not allowed to look up and down at a girl purposely dressed like a slut and think “slut.”
I remember a few years back, during my first year of college, I went to a Halloween party where I dressed like literary genius Dorothy Parker (what do you mean you don’t know who she is?). At one point, I started talking to a girl dressed as a ‘sexy’ nurse in one of those latex way-too-short-for-real-life-use uniforms, which is perhaps a little bit more Role Playing Game than Halloween.
“Who are you supposed to be?” sexy nurse asked me, innocently enough.
“Dorothy Parker,” I say and I get a blank stare back. You can’t see my ass because I’m fully covered in a flapper dress. Also, it’s vintage. I don’t have one synthetic fiber on me. I can understand how people could be confused. “Sexy Dorothy Parker?” I add, trying to be funny. “She was a writer in the 1920s.”
Sexy nurse nods ‘okay,’ bored, and picks at her cupcake. I continue the conversation with, “I see you’re dressed like a slut!” because I have absolutely no filter and say the wrong thing sometimes. I blame the obscure literary references and vintage natural fibers that got me feeling a little too superior. Like hydrogen and oxygen, those things are dangerous when mixed together. Sexy Nurse turns as red as the bows on her garter belt and gets angry because in retrospect, it was totally the wrong thing for me to say. I never should have said it, and I did apologize, but I still don’t understand this whole slutty/sexy Halloween thing for the life of me.
Like, okay. We’re young and we’re hot and we’ll never be this young or hot again, but damn girls. Have some dignity! The other day, my boyfriend Greg said, “I just saw a “Spongebabe” [Squarepants] costume. This is the end of western society.” I replied that at a party just last year, I saw a Sexy Elmo and a Sexy Big Bird. “Thanks for ruining my childhood,” he says back, and means it.
I think this is becoming a problem. Mean Girls touched on it briefly. Tina Fey (she is our Queen Bee, you know) wrote the perfect description for Halloween, “Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it.” So, as you see, I broke Girl Code. Just accidentally, though. Really, I swear.