Halloween Foibles

Halloween. A pretty neat day by all accounts. You get to dress up and go to work in things you never would dream of at any other point in time - stuff that's left to your fantasy life.

For me, this means that I get to drag out some of my costumes that I've made either during my time with the SCA or ones that I made for various plays/operas that I participated in many, many years ago. This year, I decided to drag out my Gibson Girl ballgown I made in 1993 when I was the lead in The Merry Widow. It's blue taffeta with black trim and is beautiful. Kangaroo bodice, slim front profile skirt spilling into a gored and flared back. Gorgeous. *sigh* I would wear an outfit like this every day if I could. Corset and all.

I haven't been able to fit into this dress in quite a long time, and with my weight loss, it finally fits again. It's kind of cool because when I made it, I only weighed about 160 and it was fitted perfectly to me. Now at 190 pounds, it fits again and is actually a bit loose in the waist when I wear my corset. Hah!

I was kind of cruising for a let-down, however. While people may ooh and ahhh over your outfit, they are more excited about those who wear something shocking, like the guy dressing as a cheerleader complete with fake rack, wig and outrageous makeup or someone dressing ghoulishly. Obviously, most people have no clue about the era the dress represents (Renaissance? Umm, try a couple of centuries later, my friend! Princess? WTFF? I'm not wearing a tiara, honey.), and let's face it, nobody in the modern workforce is used to dealing with women in trained skirts. *sigh* It did get me more doors opened for me than usual, though. Chivalry isn't dead when a man sees a woman in an evening gown!

I dress for me first and foremost, my husband second. Everybody else can fall in line afterwards and I could care less. But for some reason on Halloween, I want my efforts to be noticed, even though I am dressing for myself, and I want people to think that my costumes are the neatest thing they've ever seen. I may have spent weeks making this costume all those years ago, but people don't care when it comes to a costume contest. They want the cross-dresser, or the guy dressed as Jack Sparrow. Guess I'm just a costume snob. Sucks to be me, eh?

So, I'm relegated to the costume dustbin again. Everybody around here knows that I dress spectacularly on Halloween, but it's not what they like to see. It doesn't matter if I weigh 315 pounds or 190. Some things never change. I need to get over it and put my big girl panties on, don't I? After all, it's pretty silly to get upset over a stupid contest.

But it just goes to show you. Some things don't magically turn around if you lose the weight. I still get inferiority complexes over the simplest of things, things that I perceive as a rejection of me, when they're more than likely nothing of the sort. My weight has nothing to do with it. Never has and never will. This may be one of the more freeing revelations I have come to of late. Doesn't take the sting entirely away, but it wakens me to the realization that yes, my perceptions of things control my reality by bringing me up or taking me down. The choice is mine.

Which choice will you make?