Sunday, November 16, 2008

Spider Vixens

So in the weeks approaching Halloween, I had been making dark, snarky comments about my upcoming costume. In my mind I was going to be Sarah Palin, but given my rather male presence and zero intention of waxing, I was going more for a "Sarah Palin from Hell" and not so much Tina Fey (whom I totally lust after, sorry, nothing personal Tina). Well the day was coming and the plans were fermenting in my head. I needed to go to the local thrift store, get my power suit and then hit a Target for the lipstick and eye shadow.

Well, the best laid plans...

What happened in reality was I ended up waiting until that morning and instead of the thrift store I only had time to run to Fred Meyers, the local "has it all" store. Well Sarah was a dim memory by this point and I am seriously wondering what the hell I can pull off. I glance around and there were a handful of kiddie costumes and a few women's costumes. I whisk my way through the costumes and find a few that "might" work. I should point out that I know that women's sizes go up and get bigger, but I have no context to scale. So as I hold up this frilly thing titled "Spider Vixen" that comes in at a max of size 12, I think to myself "12 is a big number" and eyeball it with optimistic hope. I plonk down the money and I am off. Did I mention the bad wig? Yes that too.

So off I go to work. Once I get there, my plan is to duck in the men's bathroom and quick change into "Spider Vixen". All goes well. The bathroom is clear and I can duck into a shower room they have for even more privacy. Off comes my coat and shirt and over the head goes the dress. Great start, but as I tug and yank, things are getting tighter and tighter and much to my surprise (a very definite Wile. E. Coyote moment) I realize that the dress will not, no way, never going to happen, will it go any further. Distressed as I am about my bare mid-drift and being a pasty boy, what gets me really worried is the fact I can't move my arms at all. They are stuck out at 90 degree angles and if I try to move them too much I "feel" the dress starting to rip. So here I am looking sort of lacey and sort of "the Penguin" from the Batman 60's show. I can't get it on further and nor can I get it off.

Just then the cell phone rings...

I waddle and lean to get my phone. It's my boss wanting to know where I am. I tell him the company bathroom and he's all "Okey dokey, too much information".

Now I hear people outside the shower stall. I weigh my options and decide that waddling out and asking some poor guy who needs to take a leak to help me get out of this damn death trap is not going to win me the fame I desire for scariest costume. I wait until it gets quiet again and then start a slow twisty squirmfest that finally sees me free of the "Spider Vixen"

I put back on my shirt and bundle up the dress and head for my desk. My colleagues are both sad and relived that the dress didn't work out, but I did put up the little poster of the slinky girl in the dress and what it was suppose to look like.

My other boss, a perverse Australian, upon seeing the sad ending to my great plan, summed it up perfectly in his "charming" Australian accent.

"What were you thinking that you could pull that off," referring to the poster of the "Spider Vixen", "you're a husky girl."

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