Halloween is for Sluts

When I was seven, I was a fat martian for Halloween. An unintentionally fat martian. My butt hung out of thick silver tights, and I was perplexed.

From then on, I made sure to dress as cute things like pumpkins. Even once the baby fat was lost, I still stuck to the pumpkin, even as my preppy good-girl high school friends dropped from the sky as ass-baring French Maids. It dawned on me: For females, Halloween (or any costume opp, as years would prove) is a chance to be slutty. Halloween during years at an upper crusty college-- which seemed to have "leather and Lace" parties every other month-- took this to an extreme. The usual sweater set and pearl earring girls (the kind strictly or primarily seeking "MRS." degrees) suddenly ho'd down in leather teddies. Show 'em what you've got for sale.

But not me-- I whipped up a feverish costume as chubby Scooby Doo's Velma, complete with tummy stuffing, wig and glasses. Ever notice that your friends don't like to talk to you when you're ugly? It scares them. A friend finally recognized me. "Wow-- that's great. You look awful." and he sped away. It's even worse with garish face paint, which I have never dared try beyond 80s goth-lite. (So to my half-assed vampire homies, stop, okay?)

Now I'm older and wiser. Halloween is the opportunity to wear what you're not allowed to the other 364 days. Straight men wear fish nets (I won't go there), women are dominatrixes. Is annually exhibiting the inner ho a class thing? Those from the mid to upper decks, taught not to flaunt the cheese, go hog wild, mardi gras style. A possible dissertation topic might be: Class Basis of Dressing like a Halloween Slut. Not sure there's a study done, but there's room.