We're going to a Halloween costume party this Saturday night and I'm far more excited than any adult really needs to be. It's been YEARS since I dressed up in a costume and I'm taking a freakish amount of pleasure in doing so. I'm going as Elvira...not that I really need an excuse to wave my ample cleavage in everyone's face after 23 or 24 glasses of Chardonnay. When you're a girl who has had three children and is carrying the 'baby weight' to prove it, you've gotta go with what you have to work with. (And by 'baby weight' I mean 'toddler weight'....no, actually it's 'preschooler weight'. Whatever.)
The best part of the evening will come before we even leave the house: when I get to stick false eyelashes onto my husband's eyelids and watch him struggle into his Queen Size fishnet stockings without tearing them with his long red fingernails. He's going as a Tranny Hooker and I'm gonna pimp dat bitch out. We haven't decided on the clothes yet but you can be certain that there's gonna be a super-slutty miniskirt involved. God knows I have enough skanky outfits from the Old Days to figure something out for him. It was a little surreal in the costume store when I asked the salesgirl, 'If your husband was a woman, would you rather he was a blonde or a brunette?' We went with the blonde...hopefully they really do have more fun. Blonde just seems trashier too, which is very high on my priority list for if I ever really marry a woman.
Now, as long as we can get through tomorrow at school, and all of the post-Halloween journals and stories without my 7 year old daughter telling everyone 'My daddy s a hooker!' like she did to the checkout girl at the store, we may get away with this without Social Services investigating the welfare of my children. She's such an *angel*.
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