Halloween…..the time of year when women can bring out the “ho” in Halloween. (Yes, I realize that there is no “ho” in Halloween, but whatever – you know what I’m talking about.)

My friend, Justine, suggests that we dress up as superhero’s – and not just any super hero’s, but sexy superhero’s! Sure, why not? She sends me a link to a website of all the costumes to pick from. I pick Robin – the “girl wonder.”

That’s me, right? Girl wonder?

I was pleased with my selection, until I took a closer look of the picture. How short was that skirt? Better yet, exactly how tall is that model?

I chuckle.  Let’s see here, Miss Five-Foot-Seven with a boob job? Maybe she was more like 5’6″?  You can never tell with these catalog models – the photographs can be so deceiving.  All I cared about is how that costume was going to fit on my 5’11″ body!

It could be a problem!

Stupid.

Petite.

Model!

Nobody is that size!

Throwing caution to the wind, I ordered the costume online for $49.99 and crossed my fingers. God, please let the costume be long enough to cover my butt!

It arrives in the mail a few days later. Immediately, I tried it on with my high-heeled black boots.  Sliding it over my head and down around my body, I couldn’t help but think that the model in the picture must have been a midget. Now I’m thinking she was probably only 5’5″!

The size I ordered was a medium – and daum! Why can’t they make everything in tall????

Maybe if I pulled it down…

It’s pleather. It should stretch!

The skirt was only 15″ long. It was the shortest thing I’ve ever worn in my life. God forbid it shimmied up by accident during the night.  Even the stitching was suspect!  Would it hold up?  If it started to unravel, I would definitely be screwed.

Regardless of my concerns, it was going to have to do.

Halloween night, I get ready at Justine’s house. who is my partner in crime: Batman/woman. It was going to be a night of pleather – I could smell it! Literally! And, knowing pleather doesn’t breathe, I put on extra deodorant – just in case!

*sniff!*

We go to a house party – it’s a nice group of people. I pour myself a Jack & Coke and start mingling. The night is going well – there’s a lot of high school friends there; Catwoman, Wonder Woman, Danika Patrick, a Pirate, a Wench, and Captain America.

Life is good and, so far, no wardrobe malfunctions!

Around 11:30pm, we all decide to head over to the bar where my brother was working.

We walk in – I’m pulling down my tiny skirt, really hoping that my Nathan doesn’t freak out and notice that the skirt is way too short for me. Trust me, it would be my luck that he witnesses my ass cheek falling out!

But, apparently I was covered, or maybe he didn’t look.

It would have been weird if he looked…

Ya, he wouldn’t look.

The bar is crowded. We buy drinks. Everyone I walk by is yelling, “Robin!”

That’s right, my name is friggin’ Robin tonight! I’m towering over everyone as I make my way through the crowd in my high-heeled boots. I’m was looking to fight crime!! (Or, at least score a free Jack & Coke, right?)

Yes, fight crime – that was my intention, until some drunkie staggered up to me in a drunken haze, stopped dead in his tracks, when he saw “the girls” bursting out of my costume, and slowly inserted his index finger into my right boob.

Yes, he inserted his index finger into my right boob, as if he was testing it to see if they are real or not…

I’m standing there stunned. I’m in shock. My hair is getting redder and my blood pressure is sky-rocketing!

I start yelling at the guy, but his two friends were quick to move in and make excuses – one of them even offered to buy me a drink – hoping that would shut me up.

Like a drink was going to make up for that?!

Then the apologies turned into, “Hey, you are really hot in that Robin outfit. Forget about my friend, so what is your name?”

I look over at Mr. Drunkie who is standing there staring at me – swaying. I give him the evil eye.  He’s testing me. Yes, asshole, the boobs are real.

My attention goes back to his friends, then back at the perpetrator. I’m so mad, I make a fist. This fiery red-head is about to lose it! I pull back my arm and get ready to punch him in his face, but then I remember…

…I am in my brother’s bar…and if you want to be treated like a lady, then you have to act like a lady. God forbid, I am remembered as “Nathan’s sister, who punched a guy in the face.”

Ya…not so flattering.

I decided to let it go – everyone was having a good time, and Nathan wasn’t anywhere in sight. So, I tell Drunkie’s friends to back off and suggest that they all get out of my sight.

I turn back to my friends, grab my Jack & Coke and managed to calm down. However, about 20 minutes later, wouldn’t you know Mr. Drunkie has managed to find his way back around the bar into our area. What’s worse is that he’s perched his sorry drunken ass on the bar stool right behind me.  I’m determined not to let him bother me, so I keep my back towards him and continue to chat with my girlfriends.

I figured I would just ignore him.

That theory was working until he……

GRABBED MY SUPERHERO ASS!!!!!!!

I’m talking full-on grab.

Like, a whole handful.

I spin around and yell, “Mother f******! Are you kidding me????”

I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, but the only thing people saw was me yelling at him. And, even as I stood there reading him the Riot Act, nobody stepped in.

Great, nobody noticed or they ignored it. People just don’t care anymore. I’m convinced of this. Fine.

FINE!

F-I-N-E!!!!!!!

I’m yelling at the guy again, but realize he could care less.  He’s drunk and giving me the “Whaaah? What did I do?” look.

*HMPH!*

I turn to my friends, “I’ll be right back!”

I made my way down through the crowd towards the front of the bar, frantically looking for my big brother – and then I spot him

“NATHAN!!!!”

He comes over to me. I feel five-years old again, as I try to explain what just happened. I’m so upset, I’m practically stuttering.

“And, and, and…then he put his finger in my boob, Nathan!

Nathan’s mouth drops open as I stand there as I pout.

“At first, I thought I should just let it go, but then that fucker, I think you know him – maybe he’s one of your friends? Nate, he might be one of your friends. I don’t know and I don’t care! He’s a fucker! I’m so pissed off right now! And, and…Nathan, he grabbed my superhero ass!”

*big lip*

In an instant, I saw my sweet brother turn into a very, very, pissed-off man. There wasn’t any more explanation needed, because he got really serious and growled, “Where…is…he?!”

We walked back over to the scene of the crime. I pointed at the perpetrator and took a quick step back who I knew was about to get…

THE WRATH OF NATHAN!

Like the Leo that he is, Nathan roared over the crowd, “Matty, you are out of here! That’s my fucking sister you touched! You are out of here! NOW!”

Clearly, Matty didn’t know, “The Rules.”

I stood behind Nathan, trying to stay calm – the bastard couldn’t conceptualize the fact that he was being thrown out. He argued a bit, but left without Nathan laying a hand on him. However! Deep down inside I really wanted Matty see him get tossed out – the hard way!

I was really hoping that jerk would get some of this:

(Nathan, you didn’t think I had that picture, did you?!)

Nonetheless, my night was fun. I was trying to fight crime or at least score a drink, and my own brother had to come to my rescue!

Later that night, via text:

ME: Thank you for being my super hero tonight and coming to my rescue!

NATHAN: I’m your f***ing brother!

Yes, he is!