by Bridget Callahan
Halloween is my favorite holiday, which makes sense because it’s an entire holiday devoted to making people look at me. This year I’ve found the perfect selfie-friendly costume – I’m going as Myself.
What’s great is I already have most of the pieces. I found this old sports bra in the bottom of my closet that still has my 8th-grade sweat stains on it from when my mom made me join a gym so I wouldn’t be fat anymore. And I’m just gonna buy some cheap box dye, to get that perfect 90s burgundy hair color that stained all my parent’s towels. I still have one of those t-shirts, the ones I feel slightly uncomfortable wearing in 2017? Like, I think I’m gonna wear the one that says “Hip Hop Broke My Heart” which is a lyric from the Game, but the first time someone asked me where it was from I couldn’t remember and said it was probably Kanye, and man, it was just the whitest thing ever.
The really important part of the costume is the interactive part. It’ll be hard since naturally, I’ll want to pretend my way into having a good time. But I really like to commit to costumes – remember when I was a sexy nun and went around offering everyone repentance and implied blowjobs? I’m going to use that rosary again, and I’m gonna add a hidden speaker so you can softly hear Britney Spears playing around me at all times, but just low enough that you can’t tell which song it is.
Lots of people won’t see that part coming.
I really want to do this costume at work, but I’m not sure if anyone else is dressing up. And I don’t know how Caroline would react to the giant essay in 12 ft words about how we were always destined to die by Capitalism’s cold hands that I’d paint around the walls of the claims office. Tell me more about how much you love Amazon, Caroline. Tell me about your Aunt’s thyroid problems, and your cousin’s lymphoma, Caroline. Buy yourself another house, Caroline.
It would be cool if I could get a bunch of people to go as Myself. Group costume, like, everyone could do a different version of Me. Me in that shitty jumpsuit they made us wear at Space Camp in 7th grade. Me in slips as dresses with big boots. I really liked polyester shirts for a minute. Oh hey, maybe I put on every bit of too-tight polyester I’ve ever worn, smear myself with Urban Decay products, then I’ll go to that old basement club, make them play The Faint, and set Myself on Fire.
At midnight, wherever I am, I’m gonna stand in the middle of the room and loudly read a “prose poem” about All Hallows Eve, future pervert robot sex, and underage construction workers. Paint an OKCupid logo on my back. Hang a Tom Robbins book around my neck, really sell it. As the night progresses, I’ll shed layers and layers of clothing, sweaters and tank tops and lingerie, lipstick smeared all over my mouth and various fake wounds bleeding all over my increasingly expensive scarves, until finally, I’m just an old lady wandering around in her wiped off mascara and cotton underwear, with the heat in the house turned up to ninety cause she no longer gives a fuuuucccckkk.
And in the morning, after I pass out raging about the decline of reading comprehension and the hypocrisy of woke people watching the Bachelorette, I’ll wake up and stare out the window at the gray, cold, slightly raining October morning, and feel achingly alone and infertile, drained any motivation for creative good by the apathy and unfeeling cruelty of a terrible infant world full of self-obsessed monsters.
Maybe I’ll take shrooms and find a mirror. Record myself talking while staring into the mirror. Then I can just tell everyone I’m The Internet.
Happy Halloween. Don’t steal my idea.
Cat Unicorn costume pictured from Target. There’s a Dog French Fry Head one too. And one that’s just a goldfish on your cat’s head. And a doggy tarantula, and one where your dog is a pirate with arms, and an Octoberfest wench dog costume which is actually pretty creepy when you think about it too hard…