Trick or Treat, There's My Cleavage

There's got to be some way to get you girls' halloween costumes in order. I went to the store the other day, and found myself blushing up one aisle and down the other.

Sexy vampire. Sexy nurse. Sexy blogger.

Why can't people think of anything more inventive than simply dressing slutty?

The way I see it, if you really want to look like a prostitute, look like a prostitute. No need to wait for a special occasion to do that. But on Halloween, for crying out loud, use your imagination.

Go as a cowgirl. Or a butterfly. Or, heck--go as Kim Jong Il. And no, not a sexy Kim Jong Il.

Just ease off on the simulated skank. Surprise us a little. That's all I ask.

And while I'm on the subject, straight males dressing up as women and pretending they don't like it is getting pretty tired too. You could have picked a different costume, buddy. If you want everyone to look at you in girly clothes, fine. I'm not judging here. But don't make it out like you were forced into those fishnets.

'Cause I'm not buying it.

So this evening, as you're getting all fixed up for your big Halloween parties, incorporate this last step into your preparation: when you're done, and all ready to head out the door, with plenty of purple eyeliner caked on regardless of gender, pause for a moment and take a picture.

Then forward that picture to your mother. If you can hit "send" without hesitation, hats off. Well done. You're either a shining example of a creative, non-self-exploitative Halloween-goer, or you just really don't care what your mom thinks. Who knows? Maybe she's all gussied up as a sexy retiree herself.

In that case, I don't know what to tell you. I guess it's fine, then. Go ahead and have your junk all hanging out all over town. Just don't try bobbing for apples next to *me*.

*****

Postscript: I realize I sound like I'm about 86 years old here. My intended tone here is a little tongue-in-cheek, faux exasperation--not really outright crankiness. I hope it comes off that way.

I did feel obliged to say something, though, as my creative director just informed me that her 13-year-old daughter now has no costume at all, due to the fact that her mom wouldn't let her wear any of the hoochified get-ups all her friends got, which they wanted because that's what all the older girls wear and, well, ick. That's all I have to say on the matter.