Well, folks, the season is upon us. You’ve probably been bombarded with advertisements for pumpkin-spiced lattes, candles, toilet paper and the like. You may have also received offers to go apple picking, to take a hayride or to simply roll in the hay. These romanticized autumnal activities all lead up to one of the most extolled holiday of the year: Halloween.
It’s the only holiday that doesn’t revolve around politics, family or religion, and it’s the only holiday in which vomiting is acceptable for both kids and adults. The truth is I’m nostalgic for trick-or-treating and watching Tim Burton movies. Now that we’re adults, Halloween has become a chore and a competition. I haven’t had time to carve a pumpkin because I’ve been too busy making spooky black cats with felt and pipe cleaners — sorry, Pinterest. Then there’s the real test of your worth: forget your GPA, your credit score, or who you are as a person; you’d better be damn sure that you find a Halloween costume that’s comfortable, creative, affordable and will make everyone want to sleep with you.
Now, there comes a point in every woman’s life where she has to decide whether she wants to wear a funny costume or a slutty costume. Hey, I don’t make the rules. You can walk into every Party City and see your choices enumerated into two categories: Catwoman or Cat Lady. The choice is ours to make. It’s just part of growing up, like getting your period or making your parents cry. I never had the ritual Slalloween (slutty Halloween); in high school, I was always dressed as Kristen Wiig’s Judice from “Saturday Night Live” or Wilson the Volleyball from “Cast Away.” I always desired to expose my lower back and areolas until they developed frostbite on the one magical night before All Saint’s Day.
And so this year, I went down to Goodwill with the intention of doing just that. I browsed the scanty selection of Halloween costumes and selected an Alice in Wonderland number that would get me excommunicated from almost any church. I looked perfect. My butt cheeks were exposed and my breasts refused to stay in their proper place and kept busting out. I had mastered the look of sluttery! But, then I realized I wasn’t comfortable with this. I realized that it may be fine for some people, but it’s not my thing. Also there was a large coffee stain on the back of the dress.
So I realized, what is the point of Halloween? Has it just become a glamorized competition to show off how creative or provocative you are? Being 4 foot 11 inches tall, I’m still seriously contemplating trick-or-treating. (Although I doubt it would be possible dressed as Rosalyn Rosenfeld from “American Hustle.”) We shouldn’t feel obligated to dress a certain way. Let’s not forget what this holiday is about: absolutely nothing. A costume is secondary to having fun and eating candy.
No matter how you choose to spend Halloween, the key is to enjoy yourself. Whether you end up watching “Hocus Pocus” with friends in your room or pass out double-fisting Svedka and Milk Duds in JT’s like me, make sure you have a good time. Don’t worry that your dorm isn’t plastered with enough cobwebs and pumpkins, or that your costume isn’t as cool as mine. Get into the spirit by doing what makes you happy.