Gotta be me on Halloween
For some people, Halloween is just another day. I am not one of those people.
To me, All Hallows Eve is bigger and better than Thanksgiving. I don’t really get Thanksgiving. I don’t eat turkey, and I’m not a big football fan. I do love the parade, though. It’s the only time of year I see Underdog floating over Manhattan, and I get to learn what Broadway shows are hot this year.
But I digress, like I do. It is upsetting that I don’t know what I’ll be for Halloween, and time is running out. When you’re a “certain age,” some costumes are off limits. My superhero days are behind me. A cape can only hide so much. A person should not wear anything skin-tight unless the skin is tight. Spandex is for very few people.
You should never hear the words camel toe and moose knuckle unless you are in the presence of a camel or a moose. Zookeepers are the only people who should see moose knuckles and camel toes.
I can’t wear anything revealing – certainly nothing with a bare midriff; my mid drifts down too low.
Baby New Year – a diaper and a sash – is entirely off the table. I would be afraid to be tagged by rangers who might think a grizzly was on the loose. I’m going to need something more modest.
One year, I dressed up like a woman. It wasn’t sexy. It’s what I call “Frat Boy Drag.” I wore a wig, scrawled lipstick on my face – like a toddler who got into her mother’s makeup kit, and threw a bedazzled frock on. No one – except Mr. Magoo – would have mistaken me for a real-life woman. I did, however, look like Mama June from a 2012 episode of “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.”
It was the first time, and last time, I wore lipstick. I have since worn makeup, but it was for a movie, and a professional makeup artist did the work. She earned her pay that day.
Last time I wore a face mask, I couldn’t see anything. I bumped into walls more than I did when I was Lara Croft the first time I played Tomb Raider.
One year, my friend Henry spent hours caking his face with makeup. He turned himself into a zombie. I didn’t have time to make a costume. I wore an orange Izod, cut out two paper triangles and a half-moon, applied them to my shirt with Scotch tape, and walked around telling everyone I was a jack-o-lantern. People stopped me on the street to have selfies taken with me. My friend, who spent hours on his makeup, was so angry that I was garnering more attention with my two-minute Halloween costume.
Halloween is an important time of year. It’s the time of year when you can be anything you want to be. I think I’m just going to go as myself this year. It’s the only person I want to be.