For my entire life, I have loved dressing up – when I was a kid I would start planning my Halloween costume for the next year somewhere around November 10, the candy not yet eaten from the previous event. This year, despite Halloween falling on a Wednesday (a prime positioning for 2 weekends of activities), I don’t have a single costume event lined up – nor have I looked that hard. There are various people in various levels of fancy-dress walking around work today, but I didn’t give any serious thought to joining the ranks when I stood in my closet in my bathrobe this morning.
I had been clinically observing my own detachment from the festivities, thinking “heh, that’s strange . . .” until I came across an article in today’s Globe about sexy Halloween costumes. I, for the record, have never dressed up as a naughty nurse or a French maid for Halloween. However, there always was that pressure to look somewhat sexy or cute (while not wanting to be over sexualized).
At this moment in time, I am not feeling awesome about my body – the body monsters that tell me my butt is too big have been buzzing in my brain, so that every day dressing in normal clothing can be enough of a challenge for the psyche . . . who would want to add the pressure of a costume for an occasion in which most women (while eating candy and other such junky treats) show off their ass(ets)? So this Halloween, I’ll go and listen to scary stories with my sweetie, while the monsters are on the inside, and there’s no need to dress up to bring them out.