I swore I'd never be one of those women (and by that I mean most of the women in America) who uses Halloween as an excuse to dress like a male fantasy and slut it up.
Nope. No sexy nurse, sexy cat, or sexy bunny costumes for me.
But that was before I worked for Sex Central, otherwise known as Vegas.
When the costumer and the manager were discussing Halloween costumes for us they actually considered putting me in a showgirl outfit. But not the regular showgirl outfit that they usually wear. No, they wanted to put me in the Halloween version of the showgirl outfit, which involved a G-string and a cape.
My response was "In the first place, no. For another thing, no. No no no no no."
This is what they put me in instead:
(Pay no attention to the beautiful woman next to me. She is taking attention away from me on my very own blog. That's just wrong.)I wish you could see the short skirt and the black fishnets, but you can't.
It was generic and nonspecific, so I played it up. I got into the spirit of things. I changed my character to give the costume some context. I was mean to everyone. It was great fun.
Apparently, this made me sexy. I didn't think the costume was anything special, but the response I got from my coworkers was pretty extreme. And I'm ashamed to say this, but I enjoyed it. A lot.
Sex is power, and I was powerful for two days. Frankly, it was a nice change.
Now I understand a little more why women dress the way they do on Halloween.
While I was in costume and character we ran into one of the couples that regularly comes to the Casino and talks to us. This ended up being disturbing on several levels. The fact that I was a different character threw them. I didn't drop my new, mean, powerful character when I talked to them. The woman didn't seem to realize too much, and she chattered on about how they wanted our addresses so they could write to us. But the man, who usually asks to get his picture taken with me while he looks at my boobs out of the corner of his eye, wouldn't come near me. I realized then that the fact that I was playing a character was too strange for him to reconcile with. He doesn't realize that when we usually see them I'm still playing a character.
These people think we're really their quaint Italian singing friends. And as I thought this, I registered what the woman was saying about our addresses. In her mind, we're all BFFs that will be pen pals after we've returned to Italy. I bet she has visions of all of us on some sun-drenched Tuscan patio, drinking wine and laughing and singing together.
For the first time I felt bad about lying to these people, because that what it has become. I ran into another of the men that I see regularly after hours in my normal clothes, and I pretended I was still Italian because I had told him I was while I was working. I didn't know what else to do.
There's more on this topic, but that's about all I can do today. Hence the two-part blog entry. I just went through another wedding with another cold, so I'm toast. And I have my first competition in the city tomorrow night. Wait, what am I doing not asleep right now?!
Tomorrow, consequences.
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