Today, in lieu of this fine, devilish holiday, I’d like to take a trip down memory lane to follow the progression of costuming that has gone down in the life of yours truly. Finding these pictures was a hoot. Reflecting on each year’s memories was even more so.
It all starts out innocently enough in the early nineties with witchery, a pissed off wild feline, and a little bit of rawhide, boot-scootin’.
I bet you can’t look at my little sister dressed as an angry lion and not laugh and/or relate to how terribly miserable she must be feeling to have to hang out with such chummy and excited sisters on either side of her. I mean, look at all the fucking fun I’m having with my arm around her shoulder! LOOK!
Also, what better place to take the obligatory sibling All Hallow’s Eve photo than in front of the frame of scholarly achievements?
Next we skip forward a few years to 2005 where we have officially left the nest and are now flexing our Mormon-scandalous chops with The Dukes of Hazzard (OG and new school) and a sexy Mad Hatter.
Our first adventure with hair extensions. We? Were wild. Also? ARE THOSE THIGHS I SPY?! (The pioneers are not pleased.)
And yes, that photo is terribly pixelated. Don’t hate the publisher, hate the terrible photo quality of the days of yore. Good god 3.4 megapixels. Good. God.
After recent heartbreak and a fast approaching birthday, Halloween in July was the best cure for the illness. In other words, we got Animal House on our joint birthday party.
A toga party complete with orbs, more hair extensions, and all night dancing and being convinced that there were totally creepy, out to get us ghosts hanging at the party with all of us. It was like an episode of Ghost Hunters Arizona where there were no actual spirits just the ghosts of our dignity lingering the next morning in the shells of our human body machines.
Now we come to the time in our journey where I really fell off the wagon and fully embraced the International Slut Day stereotype. My friends…I am not proud. Those children’s costumes didn’t even see it coming.
But Steve Zissou, he was proud. And so was the “1970s porn star” behind the camera. For shame.
**Note: Yes, that is a syringe sticking out of my “skirt”. Do not get pulled over for a busted tail light two days after Halloween with the remnants of your costume strewn about your vehicle. It will cause the officer who pulled you over to call for back up. IT WAS ONLY SALINE! I had to be picked up by my fellow medical professional. Ahem.
I’d like to say that The Now and Moving Forward is my favorite Halloween costume era: Mother of Child in Halloween Costume.
Eight-month-old monkey Nugget. Mmmm, sounds delightfully fecal.
I’d like to close with the fact that this year I will most likely be going as Mother of Child Refusing to Wear Costume. Dylan just wants to be Nugget for Halloween. I’m tempted to make him one of those “Hello, My Name Is” shirts so it’s not so awkward a family of three showing up at someone’s front door, costume-less and greedy for some sugary candy.
Probably not though.
A candy-hungry family is an acceptable group costume, right?