Bat in the Belfry

The annual Halloween party at my Aunt and Uncle’s in ON!

Woot!

What to wear, what to wear, what to wear?

Of course I have a WHOLE CLOSET full of costumes, but why miss an opportunity to get ONE MORE!?

This year, I am going as a cozy black bat!

That’s right, a frigging cute ass bat.

I’ve got the costume:

I’ve got the tights:

I’ve got the furry leg warmers:

And I’ve got the black boots:

Well, the boots USED TO BE BLACK before the playa got to them.

They’ll need a little clean up.

So what do you think?

Would you mind hosting this little bat in your belfry?

My inner ballerina

My parents sent my sister and I to ballet lessons for nearly 8 years. They thought it was an appropriately girly activity that we should participate in. My “career” culminated in a performance of “The Nutcracker” where I played a cricket and a blue haired angel and spent most of my time on stage staring out at the audience looking for my parents.

Of course, the girly ballet lessons have been replaced with kickboxing and running, but one skill I developed all those years ago remains with me…

I CAN DO THE SPLITS…

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… standing up, on the floor, against a wall, even hanging upside down from the parallel bars on the playground.

It’s my one freakish stupid human trick. And I shudder to think of what my parents would say if they knew in college I used to entertain people at parties by standing in a doorway with one foot on the ground, and the other on the top of the door frame.

This was (I am sure) not the result they anticipated from years of teaching me to move in a ladylike and artistic manner.

As I browse the internet for images from this season’s fashion week, the ex-ballerina in me was thrilled to see arm and leg warmers making a comeback! Just like I was ecstatic when Britney Spears landed on MTv in a plaid jumper and pigtails singing “Hit me baby one more time…” I am reminded my youth spent in Catholic school on the tenure track to becoming a properly educated stay-at-home mom who wouldn’t even dream of saying the word sex, let alone write about it on her blog.

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I could spend hours scouring the Sock Dreams website for cool knit leggings, armbands, and thigh highs. I envision encasing myself in nothing but knit tubes of yarn. What will my credit card think of me if they see a charge for $300 worth of socks!?

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Which I am certain makes me even more of a freak because technically speaking, covering your extremities with soft knit tubes is not a recognized form of clothing oneself.

But who effing cares? I think I’ll break out my toe shoes and practice my positions (I really am incorrigible)!

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