One fun Halloween party done, one more to go.
I can’t wait to get dressed up and boogie down (cool kids still say that). Yet, I’m on the fence about my costume. I can’t believe I am saying this, but it needs to be sensible. Ugh.
Yep, I’ve reached that stage in life where my Halloween party costumes requires the following: flat shoes, for the sake of my knees when I dance; no fancy make-up for the sake of my sensitive skin; and nothing too hard to get out of if I need to use the washroom.
I don’t want a repeat of that time I had to back into the washroom stall because the poofy costume I wore wouldn’t fit into the impossibly tiny cubicle. Let’s just say, I had challenges (that I cannot detail here) while trying to use the facilities, much less squeeze back out of the doorway.
A night of dancing at my age requires frequent bathroom breaks, and if I must explain why that is, you needn’t wait for the response. I’ve already cursed you with the answer.
I dressed up as a witch last week for my friend’s house party. My alter ego was satisfied by the whole black garb, dark makeup and pointed hat attire. It’s a good look. It’s an accurate vibe lately too. I embraced the role.
Our next event is the Monster Mash dance.
I’m brainstorming costume ideas as I type, because wearing the same Halloween costume to two events a week apart feels like wearing the same dress to two family weddings. You just can’t do it.
I mean, you totally can do it, but you know your aunt, the one who hovers near the open bar, is going to point it out to everyone if you do (which is why that witch costume, and the thought of issuing curses, is so damn appealing for the next family reunion).
So far, I’m not feeling inspired for my costume, but as the event draws nearer, I’m confident I’ll conjure something up last minute.
The beauty of Halloween costumes is nobody cares, so long as you’re participating. Halloween costumes are the great equalizer. It’s inclusive.
Everyone is weird in their own expressive way.
That’s why I love it.
I’ve had a few fun costumes, some created from scratch, some that came from my mother’s treasure trove of Halloween wears, and some that the retail gods prepackaged for me.
I’ve been a killer bee, which I regretted because people got handsy with my stinger; a Christmas tree, where I can honestly say I lit up the room; Cleopatra, which required too much blue eye shadow and that’s weird; Miss Piggy was fun but the nose was itchy.
I wore the aforementioned poofy pageant gown with the banner “Nasty Woman” across it, in reference to the crass remarks of presidential candidate Donald Trump to his opponent, Hilary Clinton. I felt the pageant gown represented his bogus Miss America affiliation.
I’ve been both the bad witch and the good witch, and I assure you, both have wicked fun in equal measure.
Whatever sensible costume I eventually put together, I can’t wait to dance with kindred spirits.
Happy Halloween, witches.
