This past weekend I attended a family gathering that we have hosted for the past nine years. We live in a small town with a R.V. park that has an annual Halloween fest. Each year will haul the trailer out to the site and drink, eat, and camp until we pass out. Four years ago it turned into a birthday party for my youngest son because it fell on his birthday. This year I was getting the kids ready for the weekend asking what they were going to be for Halloween. My daughter, Queen Elsa from Frozen, my youngest, Batman, and my oldest, Captain Underpants. If you do not know who Captain Underpants is, let me fill you in. Captain Underpants is a book series where a middle school boy creates an alter ego who is a super hero character. This character wears nothing but a red cape and a pair of tighty whitey’s. I thought about this for a minute before I responded. “So let me get this straight, you want to walk around a trailer park full of people in a red cape and underwear?” He plainly stated “Yes.”
The party began and the park began to fill up. I was running around making sure all the food was ready and the coolers stocked with drinks. The kids begin to pour into our site dressed as pirates, super heroes, princesses, and vampires. I turned around just in time to see my eight year old open the camper door and walk into the middle of the lot in his red cape, underwear, and sneakers. He had no shame. He looked as though he was born to do this. I couldn’t believe how brave he was. I never thought I would be so proud of my son while he was standing in the middle of a crowd beaming with pride dressed only in his underwear.
Later that evening the Halloween festivities began. At dark we began to venture through the campsite trick or treating at each camper. The thought of how proud of him still stuck in my head. We saw a ton of cute costumes, tiny doctors, robots, Star Wars characters, and much more. It wasn’t until I saw some of the adults in costume that I realized that there is a thin line between brave and what the hell were you thinking.
While trick or treating we came across a roughly 35-year old mom in a full onesie cheetah suite, complete with tail and ears. To say the suite hugged every curve like racecar tires on the speedway of the Daytona 500 would be an understatement. The outfit simply accompanied by a pair of clear wedge heels and whiskers. What on earth made this woman think that this was a good idea? Where were her friends when she suited up? Why didn’t someone intervene and fill her in? I’m sure her thought was sexy jungle cat, but it looked like a feline fiasco. Onesies are not a good look, specifically due to the fact that they are in the adult clothing section at every Wal-Mart. Shame on you Wal-Mart, for making this woman think this was a good idea.
Later we ran into a bad cop in her mid-fifties. She should have been issued a citation for showing excessive cheek-age. The scene continued with a slew of sexy vampires who made me wish I was wearing garlic deodorant and several attempts at animal costumes gone wrong. Why do people try to make animals sexy? Have you ever heard a guy tell you he thought his cat was super-hot? If so, please run. What makes you think a kitty cat would be so sexy? I’ve seen my in-laws cat eat its own shit out of the litter box.
Why do people think that they can turn any idea into a sexy Halloween costume? At 34 and a mother of three my breasts do not sit where they once did, nor do my ass cheeks. It is my duty to keep my deflated milk jugs covered and away from the moon light on all Hallows Eve. Ass less chaps are reserved for strippers and porno films; please do not break them out on Halloween, there are no suitable excuses for that.
So with that being said, I digress. Think twice about your costume choice and get a second opinion before you trick or treat this year. Brave at eight looks a lot different from what the hell were you thinking at middle-aged.