
Left the house this morning dressed in a red unitard and 5-inch platform boots and stepped into the Tenderloin. The rest of my get-up consists of black hot-pants, thick rimmed glasses, and a “Locuter” lettering encircled on my chest. I am a super-villian of the highest caliber. My evil power? I spew forth big words and talk circles around my helpless victims until they fall to the floor, exhausted.
I am Circumlocuita.
But really, I just look more like Elastica Girl from The Incredibles.
The point being, I am less and less confident I should be romping around in a skin-tight fire-red performance suit. I called my mother.
“Today is Halloween, right?”
“Today is Halloween.”
“I don’t see anyone else dressed up. Where’s the San Francisco spirit?”
“Well, it is Tuesday.”
“Everyone’s over it. Everyone did their thing over the weekend. People are wondering why this Elastica-girl didn’t get the memo that when Halloween falls after the weekend, no one celebrates it. Everyone is wondering why no one has told her that when someone is 25 it means it’s time to grow up and costume time is over.”
[silence]
“Mom? Is that what they’re thinking?! Why am I so afraid to be the only one in cosutme? Why do I care what people think? I think I’m having a panic attack.”
“Have a nice day at work, sweetie.”
(Since when is my mom into tough love?)
I continued on. And my confidence dwindled even further as I approached work and realized I didn’t have a change of clothes. And no one at my work was dressed up. And the HR Manager made the “unitard/retard” joke.
So I made an emergency trip to Safeway, figuring even super-villians need groceries. As I walked I pretended everyone in the financial district was dressed up as unhappy bankers for Halloween. It worked only slightly.
But I also noticed a lot of people smiling at (with?) me as I threw produce and cans of tuna into my shopping cart (no one was wearing a god damn costume, but at least the fuckers were wearing smiles…)
To sum it up quickly — as there is a red wedgie fastly growing that I must attend to — (and yes, I did just write that) I’ve gotten over the whole thing as the day has wore on as I’ve gotten quips from coworkers and friends such as “at least you dressed up today, Shannon. I knew I could count on you. Thanks.”
It’s as if they’re thanking me for doing something they didn’t. And I just smile back, exhale my embarrassment, and think “you’re welcome.”
