Today is halloween. Today is the day that being a fatty? SUCKS.
Seriously, it does, like a lot.
Every year for Halloween I plan my costume around my lumps and curves, hoping to disguise the naked eye into thinking I’m not a fatty. Every year I take note of all the slutty costumes out there (whom ps, not judging because let’s be honest… if I could rock a trampy Ronald McDonald look, I so would) and secretly wish my body looked like theirs.
And then every year, like clockworks I swear to myself I’ll be skinny the following year, be the person I want to be, wear the outfit I want to wear. Every year.
This year will be no different. Yes, I’m 45 pounds down from Halloween last year, but I still have lots of ‘dangerous curves ahead’ on my boday which scare the shit out of me and make me terrified to venture outside of my humble abode.
Tonight I am going as a troll.
It’s the most ‘revealing slash tight slash holy-shit-what-was-i-thinking-costume I’ve ever put together; think skin tight, nude colour body suit, umm yea… what.was.I.thinking?!? I’m really nervous and am totally regretting the idea, but the stupid, hot-pink-omigod-it’s-so-awesome-wig has wood me in.