By Megan Brien
It’s that time of year again—leaves are falling from the trees, jackets are being pulled from closets, and hundreds of thousands of Americans are flocking to their local Spirit Halloween to procure the perfect costume. But not me! That’s right, I’ve already got my costume locked and loaded, and it won’t take you too many guesses to figure out what it is. This year, like so many before, I’ll be sporting the guise of a Cimex lectularius, though it is more commonly known as a “bed bug.”
I know what you’re thinking: “Tiffany, don’t you want to wear something sexy so that you might get laid?” And I will answer with this: I don’t necessarily think that my bug costume has to get in the way of that. Is sexiness not a state of mind? And besides, this is a tradition I have never strayed from, not in over five years. Sure, some people might be excited about the prospect of pairing fishnets with cat ears, but my chitinous exoskeleton is more than enough for me. What’s more attractive than six long, jointed legs and reduced leathery forewings?
In years past, I’ve had friends try to convince me to join them in dressing as versious Hot versions of things. “Come on, Tiffany!” they’d say, “Are you sure you don’t want to be Sexy Keebler Elves with us?” Another year it was Sexy Condiment Packets and, before that, a Sexy Deck of Cards. Every time, I turned them down. Because I know who I am. I'm not like other girls. I'm a bug. There aren’t enough pushup bras in the world to deter me from slithering—once again—into the ovoid hull of my favorite blood-feeding parasite.
Comments