Will The Real Jane Austen..
Please… stand up.
Ah yes, another year of Halloween. The leaves are turning lovely shades of red, much like the faces of the people watching the “French Maid” parade go past in the hall. The air is colder, like Mr. Vauter’s disposition when he sees yet ANOTHER mask covering some “smiling student face” (haha grimace grimace).
I accept the fact that this holiday could be labeled as Whoreloween, or carving some Slut-O-Lanterns, but I really enjoy dressing up. Being a lovely Jane Austen this year, I accepted my fate that someone would mistake me for a saucy wench, yet no one did! I got Mary Poppins, Some Medieval Lady, Jane Eyre (“But I don’t want to be the ugly governess, mumsy… make them stop!”) and finally, “some sort of green poofy lady”. I was fine with that, heck, that was it. But I enjoyed the day, say for the elastic digging into my skin and this cursed bodice cutting of air flow and circulation. I love the sleeves, but they snagged my papers. Yeah… trying to (ironically) take an English test and having my Romantic-era sleeves bend the corners or my essay. Curse you, Miss Austen!
Now having a conversation about… bodices with Kramer. Uh huh….
I’m not going Trick-or-Treating.