I hate Halloween. Every year I feel the pressure to release my inner child and come up with the perfect costume. I never can manage to quiet the voices of criticism, sending my eager little kid to the corner all sad and disappointed that he doesn't get to trick and treat.
This year I've been invited to one Halloween party so far. At Ms. Mah Wah Kiss's loft. She's going as some Chinese cartoon devil girl villain. Who carries a whip. She said she was either going as a "DominAtrix" (pronounced with the accent on the non-existant A) or the cartoon villian, but was concerned that I not go crazy if she dressed as a domme. I love that she thinks my capacity for cruel denial is so low. It's so cute.
I was sinking into my usual "I'm-just-not-going-because-I-can't-figure-out-a-costume-and-I'm-going-to-eat-a-worm" funk yesterday morning. So I told my self, "Self, buck the fuck up ya baby!" and I started messing around with internet searches. I wanted a fetish-theme costume. So I began to search and look and there's really nothing original out there. Besides, it's not a fetish party this one. In addition to Ms. Kiss's shindig, maybe I'll either be invited to a fetish one or go to one of the public ones. The public ones sound very much not my scene though.
So I needed a get-up that would pass, but say something about who I am. So I thought, what's cliche? A waiter, a cabana boy, a Roman slave? All so oh ho, ho, hum. Then I thought what is cliche about the domme/slave relationship and yet outwardly positive? The cliche is that of a cowering, wimpy submissive. The positive twist is a brave Lancelot or Galahad. So maybe I'd go as a knight! Fearless and loyal and courageous - but kneels at his Queen's feet. Yeah, that's the ticket.
Boooring!!! See what I mean about the nasty little peanut gallery in my brain?
I thought, so what do cartoon dominatrixes say to thier partners?
"You worm!", she'll snarl all dressed in an overstated leather body suit; black thigh high boots, blah, blah, blah.
Hmm...a worm. Hard to walk, hard to dance, no panache.
"Pig", she sneers. "Come here you dirty pig."
That's it!! I'll go as a proud, in your face, Dirty Pig. So I immediately went to Ricky's and got a nose and a pair of huge pink sunglasses. I added pig ears that come up out of holes I cut in the $5 bowler hat, and a prominent corkscrew pink tail. The look is prurient porker Elton John imitator meets a Clockwork Orange. I'm adding a tight white man beater, baggy black pants, and black braces. Some wash off tatoos. Add my black on black, white soled Nikes and a cigar to chomp on. Top it all off with my electric pink bow tie with a chunky D-ring hanging off it. I tie my own you know.
Presto! A dirty, edgy, sexy, rock'n rolla, bad boy pig.
"Hey baby! Can ya strap it on and make me squeal like the dirty little piggy I am?"
Hmmm, how many times can I get slapped?
This character allows license to say completely obnoxious things.
"This little pig don't want no roast beef, sweetheart. He wants to roll in the muck for you, doll face!"
"Yo, what about 'choo and me go to market, if you catch my drift, sweet cakes."
Really. I totally need a fetish party for this outfit/persona to be appreciated and appropriately punished.
But the persona gives license to do and say things that should suffer immediate castigation and decisive discipline. Even vanilla girls will want to beat me up!
Proud Pig, Dance Pig, In-Your-Face Dirty Pig. This little piggy likes it rough!
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