With Halloween creeping up, two themes reappear more than more than all the television specials combined—sex and sugar. In childhood Halloween meant an opportunity to scoop out pumpkin guts with my hands, dressing as Ghost Face from Scream to trick-or-treat next to my Minnie Mouse neighbor, and constructing an intense candy hierarchy across my bedroom floor from the bottom tier Smarties up to the king-sized Snickers. But this nostalgia has mutated behind the goblin fog into a day of lingerie and liquor.
Not that there’s anything wrong with lingerie or liquor—so long as you’re safe and of-age of course—but it can be problematic when the revealing apparel contains such a stark gender divide, calling into question whom it is women are dressing up for. If you want to be a short-skirted maid for yourself, go for it. All I’m saying is that if that’s the case, I’d like the revealing clothes a little more evenly dispersed amongst the male population. You know, a little Halloween costume equality.
I thought about it, and I wrote about in a poem. This article and the poem below plays on the gender stereotypes invading Halloween, which is why it doesn’t address everyone else who do not even receive a department dedicated to their gender’s costume. Hopefully the poem sparks a desire to revive a form feminists like Audre Lorde, Adrienne Rich and Alice Walker slayed better than Buffy ever could, because maybe, just maybe, feminism shouldn’t be dead.
Backwards Tips:
Baking the Perfect Betty Crocker
You will need:
5.) 1 jar Betty’s whipped strawberry frosting. Dip butter knife in and paint cooled cakes in swirling spread. Each jar contains an extra serving to swoop a dollop of the crystallized cream across plump and parted lips. Smile when serving. He won’t be able to resist sliding his tongue across its slippery sugared surface.
4.) 1 1/4 cups water. Batter should be a smooth and stretching white custard. To ensure proper consistency, pick up spoon and hold it above open mouth; batter should drip onto his tongue in folds. If puckered with perspiration, reserve additional cup cold water. Pour over flushed pink face and send salty rivulets of sweat steaming down collar of dress.
3.) 1/3 cup oil. Oil keeps cake lush and lingering on tongue after swallowing. Lift heel to dining chair and lather capful of shimmering gold liquid along arched calves. Starting at the dips of Achilles tendon, rub circles with thumbs. Grease legs for hands—slick oil glides his fingers farther and farther up.
2.) 3 separated egg yolks. Remember three: one for him, and two for twin boys blossoming beneath the blue-ribbed apron. Crack eggs. Stretch and glide yokes back and forth between shells. Once yokes are completely drained, discard whites. Dab counter with underside of apron to dry spills. He must not see the mess.
1.) 1 Box of Betty Crocker’s Super Moist Vanilla Cake. Preheat oven to 325.° Crumble powdered mix into bowl. Hidden inside are flour and baking powder responsible for batter’s rise. Between harsh, wet shines of an oven light and expectant eyes, structural ingredients support jostling batter, but are forgotten for vanilla, sugar, and salt in satisfying his most insatiable of tastes.