it's the most whoring-ish time of the year.

I don't have a good track record with holidays. Usually on New Year's Eve, I'm trying so hard to have a good time that something inevitably goes horrifically wrong - one year I was robbed, one year I was stuck in my parent's basement during a blizzard when I was supposed to be on a romantic getaway in the White Mountains, and one year I got stuck playing Trivial Pursuit and drinking two glasses of gross Romanian champagne. I had quite a memorable Thanksgiving when I was sixteen and after an hour of driving around looking for an open restaurant, I had to eat at a dive while my father drunkenly called me a whore in earshot of the entire restaurant. When I was a kid, I would throw up every Christmas Day because I was so excited about getting presents.

Nonetheless, I still love all of those holidays. I get excited about them. One holiday, however, makes my guts churn and my cynicism boil over into open and gross rancor.

Dude, I know exactly how you feel.

Halloween blows. Asshole kids smash your pumpkins and throw eggs and shaving cream at your car. There's a steady stream of brats knocking on your door and asking you for shit. You have to spend ridiculous amounts of money on poorly made pieces of polyester that usually rip before you even make it to whatever stupid Halloween party you're trying to go to. It's going to take you three hours just to get all your makeup off, and no matter what, whatever you chose to wear is weather-inappropriate and has you either sweating or freezing all night.

But the worst part of all? The slutty costume enigma.

If you have a vagina, even if you wear jeans and t-shirts every day, you are expected to wear the shortest, tightest piece of clothing you can find that reflects some theme. The point, I guess is that traditional costumes tend to make women look "unattractive." At least in the beginning, sexified Snow White and the like sort of made sense. The costumes found a way to actually reflect the concept. But the shit now is ridiculous.

Apparently, even the private parts of child-aged cartoon characters can't be left to the imagination.

This is allegedly a beer pong costume. The text on the skirt says "Don't forget to wash your balls!" Let's just make an outfit that says "I'LL SUCK YOUR DICK" and get it over with. Better yet, just get it tattooed on your forehead. America - where subtlety went to die.

"This is a costume, right? I'm wearing one of those cute little top hats!" If you need context to even explain to people that are going to buy it what is actually is, it's fucking terrible.

Sexy lumberjack! REALLY. REALLY. What's next? "Sexy lumper!" Or maybe "Sexy person who delivers my heating oil!"

God forbid a corporation in America NOT take something unique and badass like roller derby and make it into something shallow, sanitary and meaningless. SHE'S NOT EVEN WEARING ROLLERSKATES. I weep.

Here's a tip: Before you design a costume, why don't you do a quick Google search to ensure it doesn't reflect a well-known, relatively fucked up sexual fetish. I feel so sorry for any woman who ignorantly wears this out, because there is definitely going to be some creepy ass guy ejaculating onto her.

Do you know how many people in the world would look good in this costume? Probably about eleven. Do you know how many women are going to wear this and look like a bloated sausage? A number possibly in the thousands. And how is "being a naked woman with sushi strategically placed over my breasts and vulva" a fucking costume? I give up.

I spend pretty much every day trying to look attractive. I just want one day out of the year where I can go without wearing a bra. Which is why my Joan Jett costume this year will be to the top.

I'm even slut-shamed by my cervix.

The horror, the horror.

On Wednesday I have to have a LEEP. If you don't have a cervix, skip to the next paragraph, because I doubt you'll give a shit. Basically, I have precancerous cells, and the next step is to take an electrified loop of wire and shave off a layer of tissue, after which I can't have sex, lift anything heavy, or take a bath for a month. Woohoo!

So I'm reading up on it, and here's what the Wikipedia page has to tell me about how my lifestyle is responsible for this:

"A number of risk factors have been shown to increase a woman's likelihood of developing CIN,^[9] including poor diet, poor personal hygiene, multiple sexual partners, lack of condom use, and cigarette smoking."

Alright, here is where I want to say, fuck you very much, medicine.

Oh, you had sex with a bunch of people? Yeah, it's your own fucking fault that you're well on your way to cancer. You didn't use a condom every time you had sex? Get ready for us to remove a big chunk of your internal tissue. I find it way too convenient that what modern medicine tells us is the best for women is - hmm - EXACTLY what the patriarchy feeds us. Apparently, unless I sleep with one person, live completely sober, and pop out a bunch of babies in my twenties, I am essentially inflicting myself with certain death by terminal illness. I'm sorry, but I think this is fucking bullshit.

And here's the kicker: cervical dysplasia (what I have) is caused by HPV, which I am vaccinated against. So, something's fishy here, right? Here are the options that I'm considering:

1. Gardasil, the HPV vaccine, doesn't work.
2. Doctors are fucking idiots.
3. I have been cursed by a Somalian witch doctor at the behest of my ex-boyfriend who threw a ceramic heart I made him in a river because I dumped him for someone else and he made me a video of pictures of me surrounded by flowers with an accompanying crappy poem and I deleted it off my computer without watching the whole thing and called him a creep. 
4. The changes in my cervix are my version of normal - seeing as I've had cervical cell 'changes' since I was SEVENTEEN - and this is simply a ruse, so they're terrifying me with the C-word so they can get my insurance company to pay for a somewhat expensive, not-very-necessary outpatient procedure.
5. God is really trying to get back at me for saying "Jesus shit" all the time.

Oh, and it goes on, for as long as we ladies shall live. If it's not a Pap smear, it's a hysterectomy. We can't give birth like our bodies were designed to, so we all have to have C-sections.  The medicalization of women's bodies in our culture is both pervasive and perverse. It's a way to reap maximum profits and ensure that reproductive power - the only kind of power that is strictly held by women - is chained down for society's sake.

All I have to say is, whatever painkillers they give me... they better be good enough to make me forget my own name and the fact that I have a vagina at all.