The Right Fit

As I write this we are socked into a two to four inch rainfall AGAIN, and it’s one of those fall evenings that makes you want to curl up on the couch in your baggie cotton pajamas with a blanket and a box of Whoppers. It is a far cry from the hot swimsuit weather we experienced in Florida just a couple of weeks ago. In fact, I wore little more than a swimsuit on most days down there. And I miss it. I went shopping for swimsuits while I was there. I tried on 23 of them because nothing is more difficult than finding the right swimsuit. Except for picking a great fitting pair of jeans. Or a bra.

I’d rather wrestle with a hyena than try on bathing suits, but sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, and this girl waited until all the swimsuits at home were gone from the shelves before she decided she needed another one. While trolling the Highway 98 Destin Target for a water bottle, I stumbled upon a swimsuit rack. Seduced by a clearance tag I tried on a mauve number that was a little edgy. I was all, “Ooh, $7.98 and it fits!” Now, we have all made the mistake of buying some outlandish hat or article of clothing while on a vacation high and the Calypso music is playing and the margaritas are flowing. It seemed like a good idea at the time and then you got home and realized you didn’t want the head of the Methodist Women’s Group catching you wearing that in the Piggly Wiggly. It’s how I ended up with a flowery skirt and tube top from San Juan, Puerto Rico. So, standing in the dressing room of the Destin Target, I eyeballed that monokini and said, “Self, just ‘cause you could wear it, doesn’t mean you should.” And after nixing every justification I could think of for buying that bathing suit, I put it back on the rack. And patted myself on the back for not crossing a line I’ve crossed several times in the past. And then I bought a wool flapper hat for this winter.

Flash forward to this week when Teen Angel and I headed out to buy her a Halloween costume for a school club function she has Saturday night. Now, I grew up in a time when we made our costumes out of whatever was lying around the house or stuff you picked up at the thrift store or dollar store. So, I’m not wild about store bought costumes anyway, given that they’re such a rip-off, and I HATE, HATE, HATE that they’re all so trampy looking. However, living in a rural area, our store bought costume options are limited so we headed off to the seasonal Halloween shop in town, which I won’t name but like to call Whores Are Us since almost everything in there is a g-string short of a stripper’s costume. All of the women’s costumes have the same basic form, a duck skirt (two inches below the quack) and a bustier with something on it to symbolize what the costume is supposed to be, such as a police badge or a dog in a basket. By the way, when did Dorothy start wearing stilettos and a garter belt? As usual we wandered around for an hour with Teen Angel pulling stuff off the rack and me going, “Hellza no!” or “You will not leave our house looking like a ho!” At one point we ended up in the tiny aisle of costumes with maximum booty coverage which consisted of a clown, a nun and a bottle of ketchup or mustard. After some gnashing of the teeth and a couple of eye rolls, we finally came up with an Alice in Wonderland costume that was okay once we bought some full length tights to go under it. Can I get an amen for full length tights?

While waiting for her to try this stuff on, I watched several young women, say ages 17 to 24, trying on costumes and was amazed at what I saw. I’m not criticizing anyone’s body shape, but many of these costumes only look good on someone who is a size 2 with a 38 inch bust. Ninety five percent of the female population does not fit that category and has more real estate to cover than these costumes allow. One girl squeezed into a “police uniform” (beige micromini with a badge), and with buttons popping from her bust to her hoo hoo, she declared it fabulous and headed to the checkout line. It was all I could do not to grab her arm and scream, “Girlfriend, just because you could doesn’t mean you should.” Another girl bought a “vixen” outfit that didn’t need a mask because no one was going to look above her neckline while talking to her at a party. EVERYTHING was hanging out.

I’m no prude, but I must be getting old because I sure did feel like my mama standing in that store. It makes me uncomfortable that young women today are so comfortable with being so naked in front of the world. And apparently, it works both ways. Teen Angel seems to be uncomfortable with some of my choices that have nothing to do with skimpy. When I showed her my flapper hat and asked her what she thought, her response was, (all together now) “Just because you could, doesn’t mean you should.” Smart aleck.

Tricks for Treats

Nothing cures a good case of boredom like dressing up your pets in Halloween costumes and laughing at them. Even when they give you disgusted looks.

Or try to yank off their ears and udders.Or howl in protest.

They're just so gosh darn cute that we can't help ourselves.

What can I say? We're easily amused.

The One Where I Sound Like my Mother

It’s my understanding that the most popular Halloween costume for men this year (just ahead of Joe the Plumber) is Heath Ledger’s interpretation of The Joker from the latest Batman movie. That mask has sold like $2 a gallon gas. I haven’t really heard much about women’s costumes, but without checking any resources I can tell you that the most popular costume for women is the Ho. That’s right, the Ho. Followed closely by the wench, the slut and the ever popular tart. A trip through the local Halloween store this past weekend left me standing in the middle of an aisle barking out loud, “Where are the costumes that don’t make women look like ho’s?” And you know what? No one even noticed my rant. I felt like the Maytag repairman. Lonely, very lonely in my thoughts.

Teen Angel is trick or treating for UNICEF Friday and going to a Halloween party afterward, so we went to find a costume. Before we ever entered the store, I gave her the speech to not even go near the trashy stuff. That I had no intention of buying anything that left her participles dangling. The problem was that didn’t leave much to choose from. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING for females over the age of twelve looked like something you’d wear to a party at the Playboy mansion. Even the most innocent of characters had been turned into something sexual. Characters whose authors would probably roll over in their graves if they could see these interpretations. There was Little Bo Peep.

She’s a nursery rhyme character for goodness sakes. Nursery, as in book material for babies and toddlers. Why, she needs a sheep just to keep warm in that get up.

And I don’t know about you, but I don’t remember Raggedy Ann ever looking like this. My Raggedy Ann doll had more..um..skirt…and less cleavage.
I doubt Lewis Carroll had this in mind when he envisioned the Queen of Hearts. And did the folks at Rainbow Bright actually approve this version of their Saturday morning kids’ character? Surely not.
And I've never seen this in the bible.

As if that weren’t enough, every pair of shoes in the store was hooker heels, just like these.Call them platforms. Call them anything you like, but any way you slice it, they’re hooker heels.

Look, I’m no prude. I did the Rocky Horror thing in my time, but honestly my skirt came to my knees, and I wore a blouse. There are plenty of consenting adults who will wear these costumes to parties this year for some naughty fun, and that’s fine. But what bothered me most was there were practically no costumes that weren’t some form of lingerie, and that store was full of girls who appeared to be 17, 18 and 19 years old, buying these costumes for frat parties and other get-togethers that involved drinking. As I waited for a dressing room with a frustrated Teen Angel I listened to these girls and their chatter. They obviously gave no thought to the message they would be sending to everyone who saw them in those costumes or the situation they might be putting themselves in by throwing drunkenness into the mix. My mama always said if you want a man to treat you like a lady, you should act like one. Call me old fashioned, but I think she was right. Who would have thought that the scariest costumes this year had nothing to do with blood or gore?

*Images from Halloweenexpress.com

Fun Monday-Halloween

The lovely Sayre is our hostess this week, and here is our assignment:

Tell us about your favorite Halloween as a kid (pictures, if you have them!), and show us your costume for this year. If you're not dressing up, show us a picture of a pumpkin carving that really tickled your fancy or how you decorated your house.

I don't have a costume this year because the party I'm going to does not require a costume. However, if I WERE wearing a costume, I'd probably go as Carmen Miranda because that's my all time favorite costume. I've always loved Halloween and dressing up. I'm all about the costumes. That's probably one of the reasons I love the Parrot head stuff so much. It's an excuse to dress wacky. When I was in college I regularly did the Rocky Horror Picture Show thing, always in costume. For the record, I was Magenta, and I was very authentic. I don't have a picture, but let's just say I looked almost exactly like the real thing.

Tucked away somewhere in a box in the attic is my old RHPS costume. My friends V. and G. would dress up as Nell and Frankenfurter, and we'd do the Time Warp in cities as large as St. Louis. Good times. I dressed up in high school, too. My freshman year I won the costume contest dressed as a box of Kleenex.

As a kid, Halloween was a blast, but I can't think of a single Halloween that was better than the rest. In elementary school we had a costume contest every year, and I remember dressing as everything from a clown to Dolly Parton. Back then no one bought a costume. Everyone made their own out of stuff they had around the house or crafted out of paper mache. I usually started thinking about my costume around the first of October, digging around in dress up boxes and mom and dad's old clothes. Long before October 31st I had my outfit crafted and ready to go. We lived in the country and had no close neighbors, so we had to drive fifteen minutes into town to trick-or-treat. I have vivid memories of racing through crunchy leaves in the cool night air trying to beat my brothers or my friends to the porch to ring the doorbell. Back then, you could roam all over neighborhoods, going to homes you weren't familiar with and never really worrying about someone trying to hurt you. It was a great time, but I honestly have to say that I never enjoyed Halloween more than when Teen Angel was little. Hubby and I have had a ball over the years helping her to dress up and trick or treat. She's big on costumes, too. She was a "debbel" the first year.

Mama sewed this costume. She ran around all night whacking things with her plastic pitchfork. The next year she was a "weetch".That's my cousin's little girl on the left. My child was always the hungry one. She had to have an apple for a snack before she made it to the second house.

Like most little girls, she went through a Disney phase. This was the year she was Esmeralda.

She kept scratching her had all night because the wig was itchy.

About age five she started getting into the more creepy costumes.

She loved being a vampire. She said this mummy outfit was a bust because she starting coming unwrapped about halfway through our neighborhood.

It didn't stop her from racking up the candy. The best costume she had though, was the one I can't find a picture of. I know that picture is around here somewhere, and it's driving me crazy because I can't find it. It's the year she was a Lego. I painted a box red, cut out holes for her head and arms and glued six red, plastic Solo cups to the front. I also glued a sour cream container to a small box and painted that red for a small Lego for her head. It was great, but you'll just have to take my word for it because I can't find the photo. ARRRRGGGHHH! I hate it when that happens. I'll bet if I ate a few of those Reeses cups I bought for the tricker or treaters I'd feel better about that.