Dressing up for Halloween. . .
"It's so much fun to dress up for Halloween," my ABCD (that's short for American-born-confused-desi) friend, Aarti opinioned. "The Jones always put up a huge tent in their yard and invite everyone who lives on the block to it."
I'd just migrated to California and Halloween, and block parties were as unfamiliar to me as a fish to desert dunes. Why would you ever want to dress up for Halloween, I thought, with a slight shudder? "Ghouls and ghosts and everything bloody and gore! No, thank you," I continued.
I didn't realize I had spoken out loud until Aarti turned to me with squeals of delight. "Oh, dear, you have no idea what a scream Halloween can be. Yes, you can be as scary or silly as you want, but you can also be an entirely different character for a whole evening."
Next day Aarti dragged me to our local Spirit store and as I gawked at row after row of exotic costumes - mermaids with shining fins, flapper girls from the 80s, psychedelic clowns and jesters, mighty superheroes and burlesque barmaids, I realized what she'd said was true.
Hmmmm. . .our love life needed a little lustre, I reflected. TJ's been working too hard. It's time to give that old jalopy a jolt.
I settled on a sexy French parlor maid outfit. It took some wriggling and some shoving, but I finally managed to fit into the clingy, low-cut white, frilly shirt, the gauzy tutu skirt, the sheer white lacy garter and the black double-paned tights. On Halloween night, after the kids were tucked into bed, I sauntered out into the bedroom in a billowing mass of fabric. I pirouetted on my high heels, cleavage on full display. I had my reward when my husband emitted a low whistle.
"Bonjour, Mr. T. Will you follow me into my chamber?" I whispered into his ear.
"Oui, oui," he replied, a wide grin lighting up his face.
Gotcha . . . mission accomplished!