Halloween After College


When it comes to Halloween two things become abundantly clear — you now have an excuse to buy and eat a whole bag of Reese Peanut Butter Cups, and it’s that time of year again where guys get an opportunity to don fake blood and crazy, goofy outfits while us girls have a pick of sexy nurse or sexy school girl costumes. Of course, there are always a select few creative females who make cute and culturally relevant costumes that make the rest of us look like unoriginal skanks, but (and I’ll speak for just myself here), “ain’t nobody got time for that.” Because really, who has time to go to Michaels, and Joan’s Fabric Store and (inevitably) Spencer’s in the mall to build your own DIY costume; all so you can get asked a million times, “What are you?” while the rest of your friends scurry around in lingerie? Hard pass for me on that one.

So starts the dilemma of deciding whether or not you’ll go as something scary or sexy. About a week out from Halloween you grab your closet gal pals and head to some previously abandoned warehouse to try on a bunch of overpriced dresses with garter belts and cheap accessories. Because we’re a fat shaming society, female Halloween costumes come in size small, medium, or large — and that’s it. Your inner brain will try to tell you that this is stupid and you are too old for Halloween because you will see pictures of your 16 year old cousins and friends of your younger siblings dressed as if they’re shooting a Maxim cover instead of going out for Halloween. You’ll also run into the problem of having already been every cliche sexy Halloween costume there is already. Those facts, coupled with that you’d would much rather be spending you Saturday in your sweatpants, makes you want to leave the store immediately.

You decide to pick a few things that are sexy but also appropriate enough that if anyone from work saw you in it they wouldn’t wonder why you were dressed for a Playboy party. The dressing rooms are just sheets hanging from metal bars but you manage to squeeze yourself into, what seems to be a 10,000 piece costume before pulling back and taking it all in. It looks ok. You can foresee several “likes” in your future when you post a picture of yourself (much drunker than this I might add) in said costume. You are only moderately irritated to hear the college girls next to you talk about how they need to go to Zumba everyday this week to fit into their costumes even though their about a size 0. They are going as a group costume of sexy M&M’s. Gross.

For a minute you debate going as a decapitated zombie like the little boy running around as you wait in line to buy your $35 sexy scientist outfit (hey- it’s still feminist). You realize that as much as we blame male society for creating this sexualized idea of Trick-or-Treating that it’s kind nice to have a holiday where you get to express your sultry side. You’re tempted to say empowering before you realize you need to stop at Target for a new push-up bra and immediately recant your sentiment. In front of you is a little girl with a simple princess costume like you had when you were young and you smile at her and ask her what type of Princess she’s going to be. “Queen Elsa.” She says with a “duh” expression on her face.

You somehow manage to get out of the store spending $20 more than you thought. You try on your costume again only to see a small hole in it – figures. You end up spending the day before Halloween at Ross throwing together a sexy cowgirls outfit before calling it a night and swearing you’ll do better next year. If there is a next year. Fuck Halloween.