Hey, lovelies! I hate Halloween costumes today. I’m also having trouble reconciling my hate. I have this problem a lot. You see, I hate that women are expected to showcase their bodies on Halloween (or for any other reason) like the world is just one giant swimsuit competition whenever and wherever dressing up is warranted. I hate that when Halloween comes around, we’re meant to squeeze into cat leotards and little minidress mockeries of nurse uniforms and nun habits to get a rise out of men who did not earn it. Even more than that, I hate that the men are not expected to reciprocate the sexiness and dress up like Spartans or… I don’t know, guys with loads of cash. Edward Cullen, maybe, if you’re into that. Barf. But I especially hate that I really, really enjoy looking at women in tiny little outfits. Oh, what is a feminist half-dyke to do?

I don’t know.

I suppose I should begin with acknowledging that some of you are straight and enjoy the attention you get from men when you dress up all sexy. There’s nothing wrong with that. Indeed, some of you who aren’t straight enjoy the attention you get from women (and maybe men too, cause they can’t have it and that’s sort of funny). There’s nothing wrong with that, either. Of course there isn’t… so long as you don’t mind me stealing glances, too. I pretty promise to be super respectful and not get drool in your cleavage. Cross my heart.

However, this post is for those of us who are straight, gay, or both, and utterly despise being so sexualized every fucking time October rolls around. This year, it’s not enough for me to wear something with a high neckline. This year, I want to upset them. I won’t be satisfied not to attract them. I want to repel them. I want to repulse them. I want to give them the same feeling in the pits of their stomachs that I get every year when they strut around dressed like pimps and expect us to giggle at how fucking clever they are for finding that huge purple hat and laugh when they make jokes about “turning bitches out.” Real fucking original.

Yeah, I’m done with this shit.

So what can we do? Crossdress? Maybe. Although, I think most men would still totally love to see Elvis with boobs. Surely, there’s something better… let… me… think…

AHA!

Materials: frizzy beehive wig, a half gallon of mascara (smeared), thrift store tank top, jacked ballet shoes, and a pack of filterless cigarettes the night before to fuck your voice right up. Amy Winehouse is a classic trainwreck. She’s a horror to behold (hey, it is Halloween, after all) and has the added benefit of being a sort of vague reminder of every horrible blind date with an alcoholic sorority girl your target has ever been on! It’s win-win! Nobody can kill a boner like Amy Winehouse. Except, maybe…

Le Voila! Boner-killing gold for women who eat better than Amy Winehouse. Materials required: hair rollers maybe, shapeless t-shirt with something very lesbian printed on the front. Good for terrifying men AND your budget! But we’re not done yet! Check this one out:

Men hate periods. “Gross!” they think “I just want the warm squishy bits to stick my penis in, oh and the jiggly breasts! Can’t you stop that horrible mechanism somehow?” Hahahahaha. NEVER! Nothing will ruin a figure-hugging white dress for them like a big-ass blood stain. If you’re lucky, your target will be a fainter. I’m laughing already.

But these are small-time. Some of you poor dears have been suffering through year after year of Halloween parties full of glory hole costumes and *shudder* hot dog vendor costumes with “foot long” stamped on a box which seems to be attached… ugh. Trauma. Some of you have some serious boners to pick. Well, listen up, babes, this is YOUR year.

Lorena Bobbit, baby.

Happy Halloween! (And send me pictures!)

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September 30, 2010

Categories: Uncategorized . Tags:bisexual, Halloween, lesbian, objectification, REVENGE . Author: freejunecleaver

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