I hated myself yesterday.
My inner feminist was stabbing me in the ovaries, angry that I allowed myself to fall into the same trap I’ve fallen into ever since I switched to tampons. I let myself collapse into a dangerous abyss with every other woman in LA: I got a slutty costume for Halloween.
WHY? Why couldn’t I have just gone as a hot dog or a funny mummy? It must have been my inner ho calling out to be noticed…my butt cheeks screaming out to be fondled by drunk men…my belly button begging to be paraded around Los Angeles. And I listened to them. Sadly, I did. I could not stop my hands from plucking the nose, bow tie, and bright red boy shorts from the walls of the seasonal store and into my basket, the pieces to my slutty clown costume. Yes, I managed to make a clown promiscuous.
At least I didn’t get the skanky Alice in Wonderland or the cliché French maid.
It’s sad, really. Maybe we do it because we have a burning desire to be lusted after by all. Maybe Freud was right and all everyone really wants is sex. Or maybe we do it because most of us are forced into suits and “proper” attire in our daily lives. Or perhaps it stems from the fact that we’re animals and share an innate desire to always be naked. Either way, it means we’re oppressed, unable to be our true sexy selves in today’s society.
And now that I’ve come to such a conclusion, I say we stand against this oppression! In fact, I encourage everyone to be slutty on Halloween. To show as much skin as possible. To give nurses cleavage and police women fishnets. To turn every single uniform into a desperate plea for sexual attention. Do it while you can, my friends. Do it while you can. REVOLT!