In Which Laurel Discovers the Most Indecent Halloween Costume of Them All

I love Halloween. I could pretend that it goes back to a childhood love of free candy (and I really do like free candy), but it these days it's a little more than that.

Nowadays, what I primarily love about Halloween is spending a ridiculously long amount of time carving elaborate pumpkins (I've convinced myself it's a skill) and dressing up in outfits that would be considered "slutty" on any other occasion.

I'm 30, so time is running out on the latter, and I have to get out as much of that last urge as I can (be it annually) before the girls hit my waist. I already decided to get rid of all of my free alcohol-themed baby tees (nothing says "class" like "Stoli" emblazoned across your chest in rhinestones) and a particularly demure black tee that said "Hottie" in silver capital letters across the front at a garage sale last year. (I had fun in college -- and very little fashion discernment it seems.)

I tend to start thinking about my costume around Labor Day and then make a few returns and/or excahnges at Party City before the final reveal that last weekend of October. In recent years, I've gone as "naughty" Dorothy, Elvira and Silk Spectre II from The Watchmen. (Can you tell at which point I began dating a comic book lover?)

This year, I quickly honed in on Lilah from Jonah Hex (it reminds me of a modern saloon girl) and the Black Widow from Iron Man 2 (I love me some ScarJo). Both seemed like fun, and once I started with superheroes, I figured, "Why not keep going?"

However, there was something about the Lady Gaga costumes that kept calling to me.

I don't have particularly strong feelings about Lady Gaga, so all I can figure is that I really, really wanted the Lady Gaga wig to add to my collection. (Yes, I have a wig collection, and wearing wigs -- of the outrageous variety -- makes me very happy. Did I once throw a party whose only theme was "wigs"? Yes.)

Neither Lilah or the Black Widow would require a wig seeing as I already have long brown hair, and lessons-learned-from-the-recession Laurel is trying really, really hard not to buy things she doesn't need. Even though the Lilah wig is only $16.99, but bygones ...

I e-mailed the Lady Gaga costume photos to a friend (to see if it was too slutty), and her comment was something along the lines of, "Uh ... yeah ... that would be pretty daring."

Assuming the costume was just a blue leotard with a big collar and some cut-outs on the sides that would be lined with mesh, I still had hope. "What if I got those nearly opaque cheerleader tights that are kind of shiny and can almost seem like leggings?" I wrote back.

"Maybe," she said.

So, today, despite all of the reasonable warnings, on my third trip to Party City since September 1, I decided to try on the Gaga costume. The result, ladies and gentlemen, was not pretty. Be warned.

What I had assumed would be leotard/possibly Legg Avenue-esque concoction was actually more like a dicky with external shoulder pads and a butt flap attached -- you know, for modesty. There wasn't even fabric on the back -- nothing ran from the top of the bum to the neck. And those cut-outs? They weren't cut out of the suit. They never existed as part of the costume to begin with.

While I normally would not be willing put such a photo on the Internet (because God knows I've never posted unflattering photos of myself before), inspired by my friend Jen West and her amazing, bikini-clad documentation of her recent diet and fitness plan, as well as feeling that this post really does need a visual, I give you the most terrible and most indecent outfit I have ever put on my body.

The final blow? $49.99 for less than half a yard of fabric probably imported from China for $.35.

Parents of the world, beware: your child does not need to dress as Lady Gaga. Unless you want her to end up in soft-core porn or are willing to make the costume yourself. And women out there over the age of 21, just don't do this to yourself. Really. There are other, far more positive ways to gain men's attention.

For the first time, I actually think being a pop star probably isn't all it's cracked up to be. Especially if you have a particularly aggressive stylist.

And next year, I might go back to that sheet/ghost costume.