How Halloween Got Weird for Women
There’s a moment in a lot of girls’ lives when Halloween stops being about play and starts being about performance…
and that’s where body image hits women the hardest.
Not in a “fun theatre kid” way. In a “there is now a correct way to display your body” way.
For a lot of women, myself included, that shift hits in college. For me, it was 2012 #Halloweek at the University of Arizona — a cultural awakening I was absolutely not prepared for.
If you went to a state school in the mid-2000s, you know the vibe. Essentially, anything short of lingerie counts as a costume if you pair it with ears. It didn’t really matter what you were dressed as, as long as you lived in a body that could “pull it off.”
And just to be clear, I don’t care what anyone wears. Truly. Wear the lingerie! The problem wasn’t the costumes — the problem was how narrow the version of hot was allowed to be.
From Childhood Joy to Adult Performance
As a kid, Halloween gave us full permission to explore. You could be loud, messy, weird, covered in unflattering face paint — whatever. In childhood, we weren’t thinking about how we looked in the memory because we were too busy living in the memory.
Then young adulthood happens and messes it up for all of us.
Suddenly, it was understood that your costume didn’t actually have to be cute. You had to be “cute” and wear a costume.
And by “cute” I mean hot. And by “hot,” I mean skinny — but still with a butt, boobs, nice hair, and a likeable personality.
When Body Image Took Over Halloween
I remember dressing up as “sexy” Baby Spice one year in college. I spent the whole night attempting to shrink myself — watching myself from the outside, editing myself in real time.
Trying to suck in.
Convinced I wasn’t the right body to be seen in that costume.
That’s the moment Halloween got small.
And that’s what so many women end up internalizing: only certain versions of yourself deserve to be visible.
Of course that made the joy of my childhood Halloween disappear. It wasn’t safe to be seen unless you were performing the “socially acceptable” version of yourself. We lost the right to take up space without making ourselves palatable first.
Reclaiming Halloween — and My Body
Adult me had to unlearn that.
Yes, my frontal lobe has finally developed. But I’ve also realized that hotness isn’t a look — it’s a choice.
It’s a state of being you can choose for yourself, regardless of what you look like.
When we change our bodies to fit someone else’s version of “hot,” we give them the power to decide if we qualify. When we accept our bodies as they are (even on the days we don’t feel amazing about them), we take that power back.
Because now we decide what being hot looks like — and what that looks like, is you.
What Halloween Means to Me Now
Now, Halloween feels like mine again. I don’t spend it auditing my body or comparing it to the algorithm’s version of “sexy.”
I spend it doing what seven-year-old me loved:
✔︎ Planning a costume
✔︎ Eating candy
✔︎ Being a little extra dramatic
The difference is, I get to decide what “hot” means — or if I even care about being hot at all (spoiler: I don’t).
The pressure to perform didn’t come from Halloween, it came from the world we grew up in. But I’ve learned I can choose to opt out.
I like knowing I’ve made it back to the version of Halloween that’s campy and wholesome again.
It only took the entirety of my 20s, some therapy, and a fully developed frontal lobe. But if sharing this helps you get a little of your own joy back, I’ll call that a win.
Keep Reading & Stay Connected
If this piece resonated with you, you’ll love what I share over on Instagram! It’s quick thoughts on women’s health, body image, burnout, and actually feeling good in your body again.
Follow @clairerifkinnutrition for more essays, honest wellness talk, and (occasionally) my pink mic.
