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A miditation on whore fancy dress

As someone who is very keen on fancy dress, I am often confronted with a particular problem. Not sure what’s going on in the fancy dress world, or who makes the decisions on these things, but there seems to be a large contingency in the business that believes women are incapable of having a sense of humour. We just want to look sexy, apparently. We MUST look sexy or no one will talk to us or ask us to marry them. We won’t have fun or be bought drinks or even remotely enjoy ourselves. We must be told ‘You are without doubt the sexiest carrot I have ever seen,’ or we will falter for conversation, confused and unsure about our role at the party.

I was invited to a beach party the other day and decided to go as a sailor – so I Googled women’s sailor fancy dress.  I suggest you do the same now to see what I mean, when I say what came up was not a sailor, but a whore sailor. Stockings, corsets, boobs out, tiny whore-y skirt. So I ordered a men’s one instead because I didn’t want to go as a whore sailor, I wanted to go as a normal sailor. And yes, it was VAST but at least no one offered me £20 for a quickie behind the pizza van.

There must be women out there that want to dress like a whore elephant and that’s fine with me. Be a whore elephant or a whore bumblebee or a whore hamburger (all these whore costumes exist by the way) – but there are plenty of us who also want to wear fancy dress because it’s funny. Remember funny? It’s that thing that brings a different kind of confidence. The sexiest kind.

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