The Huz and I happened into a Halloween shop.
Perhaps I could end my post there and many of you would understand the offense I feel was thrust upon me. But in true Gordita fashion, I'm going to beat a dead horse even deader and get myself so riled up, like a chained dog snarling at a cat on the other side of the fence tauntingly just out of reach, that I start to feel light headed.
Another disclaimer is in order: I'm not a huge Halloween fan. I don't like the decorations. I dislike the crafty cutesy as much as I dislike the spooky scary. Spooky scary turns into gory bloody nasty. And crafty cutesy, well see my last post. I don't like trick-or-treating; it's just so awkward, no matter what side of it you're on. The only thing I tolerate about Halloween are jack-o-lanterns. They're kind of cute. But a huge mess and waste of a pumpkin.
Okay, so now that I've revealed my inner Grinch Who Stole Halloween, on to the offense. Holy moly, Halloween costumes for grown women are skanky (honestly there were quite a few costumes labeled "pre-teen" that were sleazy too, but I'll leave those alone). Only three out of the hundreds of costumes I saw were modest (i.e. knee-length, with sleeves, moderate cleavage). I could choose to be a pirate (a blatantly promiscuous one), a fairy tail princess (saucy version), or a witch (minxy seductress).
Huh? Pirates are supposed to be fierce and mean, princesses are supposed to be lovely and wholesome, witches are ugly with green faces and warts on their noses, not saucy sirens.
Here are my issues with this costume debacle.
Issue #1: Most of the costumes I saw there were made by lingerie companies who make these costumes for the kind of dress-up one does in the privacy of their own home with their spouse. And these things are being sold as though they were real clothing, real costumes, meant for public use? How dense do you think I am, Halloween Store People?
Issue #2: The age old argument that women are not objects comes to mind. What are you saying about yourself when you dress up as a sexy Snow White? For that matter, what are you saying about yourself when you dress up as Freddy Krueger?
Issue #3: I take offense to the fact that these costumes were from cheap fabric (and very little of it) with poor craftsmanship and were expensive to boot.
Issue #4: The women's shoes they sell in conjunction with the costumes were like those you might find in a pole dancing establishment.
Issue #5: The costumes for men weren't much better. The choices were limited to pimp (I can't even tell you how much this costume makes my blood boil), mimbo, and hippie. Oh, and there were others that I won't give the specifics of because they were in poor taste. Really poor taste.
Am I taking this whole thing too seriously? Probably. I often do that. I get angry sometimes at random things over which I have no control. For example I take issue with Hollywood romcoms and obvious orgies of CGI that assume that the audience is a pack of dumb animals that are so slobberingly ravenous that they'll eat up whatever crap is served out. See? I probably take it too seriously. Just don't watch the romcoms and CGI orgies. But instead I don't watch them and still get angry that they are even being made. And don't even get me started on those modest clothing stores that have cropped up all over Utah that sell cheaply made clothing for more than it's worth that women eat up because it's modest. Modest clothing is available at nearly every store people! (With exception of the Halloween shop.) You don't need to throw your money into a sink hole of "entrepreneurship" and "originality."
Such it is with this costume nonsense. Leave it alone Gordita. Avoid the Halloween shops. If you must dress up, find your own costume that isn't degrading to your self worth and doesn't show 90% of your body. And be happy that you were successful in avoiding the crap.
But what about all those other women out there who don't think for themselves? What about those adult-sized teenage children who will buy those costumes and wear them and send the wrong message about themselves in an attempt to garner attention from boys that they feel they need in order to have self-confidence and damage their psyche for the rest of their lives? What about them? WHAT about THEM?
Feeling light headed.
Taking deep breaths.
Focusing on my heart rate.
Don't worry about me people. I'll get a grip and move on. Someday.