Outside of the In-Crowd – I am judging you for being dressed like a whore

Courtney Enlow

Courtney Enlow

Ah Halloween. Strolling around the city, surrounded by happy smiling children of all ages, filled with candy and eyeliner and … What? Oh what’s this shit?

My buzzkill every Halloween since I was old enough to see adults celebrating this magical holiday: the slutty costume.

Not to go Ned Bitters all over your face, but what the hell is the matter with you? It’s fall, it’s cold, it’s a child’s favorite night of the year, and I have to look at your labia. You bitch.

I don’t think I ever really noticed the phenomenon until college when every October 31st, the streets of Chicago became inundated with slutty nurses, slutty pirate wenches, slutty cops, slutty bees, slutty referees, slutty Tom Cruise in Risky Business-es, slutty Alex DeLarges, et-fucking-cetera. All with cleavage up to their chins and more navel than a Florida orange grove.

I know what you’re thinking right now. Something along the lines of “killjoy” and “Amish” and if you’re one of the girls to whom I’m referring, probably the words “fat” and “jealous.” Well, no, asshole, and you’re the bitch for judging fat people. The words I’d go for are maybe “creative” or “dignified.” Or “not dumb.” We’ll go with that last one.

Seriously, I’m not fat. Don’t start with your emails again, Leia.

Look, I know that as women, we’re supposed to build each other up and be respectful, and not talk to each other using those horrible words that have kept us under the thumbs of a patriarchal society for generations. But you know what else helps us to remove ourselves from that position? Not showing your vagina to the whole world.

You can call it fun, you can call it having a good time, call it whatever you want. I have no problem with people posing nude for magazines or even doing porn, honestly. Because at the end of the day, they’re getting money to shake their berries. You might get a guy to take you home so you can drunkenly blow him. Dream big, slutty Alice in Wonderland, dream big.

And here is where we get to a fundamental reason why I am outside of this particular in-crowd as well. I do not understand the need to dress a certain way to get a guy to notice you.

(The in-crowd I’m referring to is obviously “anyone attracted to males.”)

I’m not naive. I know that looks matter to most people. I know that it’s just common understanding that everyone notices the outside before noticing the inside. That’s just how it goes. But while that may well be the case, I see no reason as to why a man needs to see your “inside” in that manner (that’s THREE vagina references so far, I am on a damn roll).

Of course when it comes down to it, my biggest problem with this tradition isn’t even the human flesh display that you become when you dress like that. It’s the lack of creativity. And here’s where we get to a fundamental problem with some female ladypeople. You don’t believe that you are interesting enough, so you try to display anything that makes you seem remotely intriguing to others, and more often than not, it’s the same thing everyone else is showing off.

This could be boobs, legs, a Coach bag, or whatever terribly uncomfortable and ugly new shoes are suddenly “in.” If you don’t have a personality to speak of, hell, just throw on your sunglasses with the giant DIORs on the side and grab your uglyass Louis Vuitton bag that you spent three grand on (when you could have bought an identical one on Mich Ave for nineteen bucks, but then you’d be sad AND a poser) and show that you’re RICH! and FABULOUS! and CARE ABOUT IMAGE! YAY VOGUE OMG REMEMBER WHEN CARRIE WORKED AT VOGUE OMG!

I guess you’re seeing the reason I’ve never had a huge number of female friends. Mainly just the select heinous bitches such as myself. In fairness, of course not all girls that dress provocatively at Halloween are slutty and sad. Of course not. Just the ones that wear the same old nurse and referee ones, I mean really, can’t you come up with ANYTHING else at all, really? See, I can’t even stop myself. It’s amazing I have friends, period.

I suppose I’ll have to just calm down and accept the fate of being forced to see all the skin coming my way in the next week. I will calm myself in the knowledge that while they are stumbling down the street in 40 degree weather dressed as slutty Palin, I am at least warmer.

Seriously, I’m not fat.

Courtney Enlow is a writer living in Chicago and working as a corporate shill to pay the bills. You can contact her at courtney@hobotrashcan.com.

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Comments(12)
  1. Joel October 27, 2008
  2. Courtney October 27, 2008
  3. Joel October 27, 2008
  4. Courtney October 27, 2008
  5. Leanne October 27, 2008
  6. Casey October 27, 2008
  7. Courtney October 27, 2008
  8. Quita October 27, 2008
  9. jackie October 28, 2008
  10. ned October 28, 2008
  11. CourtsDad October 29, 2008
  12. Veronica November 5, 2008

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