The Time I Was Wendy Williams for Halloween….

…AKA a study of men, women and aggressives (hardcore diggity dykes) and their reactions to breasts even when they look outrageously FAKE.
Being broke and creative are the ingredients for genius. Since we all know my love for Halloween, we must also know I spend a greater part of September and October thinking about my costume…sometimes August if I think other people should be involved. Thinking doesn’t always equate with doing for me…so my costume isn’t finalized till about 3-4days before the BIG EVENT.
While contemplating being Oprah- walking around with a bag of money and giving out Matchbox cars- I stumbled upon Wendy Williams. I have *hearted* Wendy since her radio show. Love her honesty and drag queen qualities. I’ve even been called Wendy Williams because of my ability to know all the info and keep it real- I wouldn’t say I gossip though, I would call it talking shit.
Another lovely thing about Wendy is that she is a CHARACTER. She is tall, draggy, wears wigs, has a signature saying (how YOU doin’?) and has LARGE fake breasts. All I would do was make a mic to really bring it home who I was. So, I bought a wig and balloons. I knew I would have to wear heels because Wendy lives in them, and I would have to wear a jazzy outfit-that no matter WHAT would look almost slutty because of the large breasts I would have. No cleavage though, so I was all good…or so I thought.

A few things: I am naturally a SHY person and don’t like attention drawn to myself. I get that I am sexy and can take a complement, but get uncomfortable at times. I had to REALLY psyche myself up to do this because large breasts on this already RAVISHING figure (hahahha), and this lovely face was going to be TOO MUCH. Had to remember this was a costume and to HAVE FUN!

Here is where I give the play by play of my evening. I felt like Tyra when she put on that fat suit once and made herself feel better about being a former supermodel- having GIGANTIC BOOBS for one night made me so happy for my proportionate body. Thank hay-sus.

--As I left my apartment building this kid asks me if I am in costume, I respond with an eye roll and a YES. Then I bump into my building crush and he is like ‘WOAH’. I say ‘Happy Halloween’ . He says ‘indeed it is’. I then cross street and make my way to Stop n’ Shop to pick up snacks. A dude pulls over his car and begs me to tell him that my boobs are real. I says ITS HALLOWEEN!!! He tells me I am lovely. Woah. I near a group of teenage guys-dreading this. They all start laughing which makes me comfy. We laugh. Then one asks if I am a REAL woman because they’ve been seeing dudes as chicks and they think I am cute, but wouldn’t feel right about that if I was a dude. I say that I am a REAL woman…somewhat. Ha! I am about to enter Stop n’ Shop when this dude in a mask strolls next to me and says…’hey Wendy Williams’ and I say ‘how YOU doin?’! I was SOOOO happy he GOT IT!!! I wanted to high five him, but decided against that. Instead we talked Halloween parties and he tells me I’ve got nice legs, and that he KNOWS those are real. Good work. Once inside supermarket, a group of employee’s scream out ‘wait, are you Wendy Williams?’ and I respond, ‘how you doin?!’ They all laugh hysterically and again I am so excited people are getting it. Though more people are just excited about the breasts. I grab snacks and a group of people are like ‘BYE WENDY’ I say ‘BYE GUYS’ in my best Jersey accent. A woman taps me on the shoulder just as I get outside, ‘you’re supposed to be Wendy Williams, right?’ and I say ‘yep’. She claps and her husband explains that she (his wife who tapped me up) adores me AKA Wendy, and they were just really excited and a whole lotta fun. I am feeling good and ‘hearting’ costumes…and Wendy even more. Of course I got a lot of ‘nice tits, hooters and boobs’, but that was to be expected.

--My train ride was pretty uneventful till I stood up and I heard a lot of ‘hot damns’ and more prayers of hoping they were real. A few more people ‘got it’ and did the Wendy Williams Show ‘woop woop’. Loved that. A dude asked to take my picture- I covered face with wig. A few were excited to see me run for a train I almost missed. A lot of people were laughing-very good! Women were saying I had a great bod- REALLY?! A great bod for PORN. I mean really? I had to be like a triple F or something horrific- no offense to ladies carrying them REAL heavy loads- but NO THANK YOU. As I entered a Starbucks an aggressive was the first to actually rub up on my titties. I reprimanded her and said if they were real I would’ve punched her the fuck out. She liked that. Got a sweet discount on my coffee and brought glee to the barista’s as we said ‘how you doin?!” like 58 times!

--The first party I went to was a house party. Pretty chill and very cool. Everyone knew who I was and loved it. I let people rub on the titties and conducted mini interviews…mostly about my titties. After eating n ‘ drinking my fill, and making sure the Yanks were winning game 3, decided it was time to go to party number 2. There was supposed to be a number 3, but the tool quotient was too high and I was having a good night. This guy dressed as a tourist needed help getting to Essex street so I told him to follow my friend and I-he says FRIENDS looking at my ballooned titties- I chuckle and say ‘yes!’. Upon entering the F train I begin hearing ‘oh my goodness its WENDY!’ Half the train car is laughing and saying how my they love me AKA Wendy. We all say ‘how YOU doin?!’….but it wasn’t all love love in the club…or train. There was this group of girls who were cute and possibly my BIGGEST fans and there was this one chick with this guy. Beef was brewing between my fan club and this chick. Seems she deemed them skanks and they deemed her a wench. Thankfully, my large mams came between them…and quite literally moved the wench out of the way. The skanks applauded…and this happened.

Skank 1: Thanks Wendy! That chick has been getting on our nerves this whole train ride.
Me: Me and ‘the girls’ do what we can. (we all laugh, and by we all I mean half the train car)
Wench: …Like I even know who Wendy Williams is. I read!
Skank2: We all read.
Wench: Do you guys know who Jane Austen is?! Who cares about Wendy Williams.
Me: Of course we know who Jane Austen is, and reading is great…and so is pop culture. Doesn’t make one dumb to know these things. Now, do you know who wrote Twilight?? (the skanks are loving it, peeps are laughing, it’s a good time)
Wench: I don’t give a fuck about a Wendy Williams- (she goes on and my friend who knows me and knows my limitations gives me a look to see if I am going to put the chick in a headlock, I am still smiling though)
Skank1: Oh no she didn’t say that to Wendy Williams. Get her, Wendy!
Me: (I had been doing the Wendy Jersey accent this whole time, but soon went into my REAL voice-and by REAL I mean that ‘I will shank you voice, but I am keeping it professional) No, no. It’s all good. …..but people need to realize this is a costume and that I am from Brooklyn, and will choke a bitch.
**silence**
Skank3: Is it Delancey Street yet?
Me: Next stop, just follow me!
The Skanks: YAY!! WENDY!! We love you!!!
We all get off the train. I bump into a few more peeps who wanna take pics…there was MAD LOVE.

--Decide on NOT attending one party and go to another. Had peeps to meet anyways. The spot was dark, so my boobs were not noticed at first…but when they were. Ooo weeeeee! This party was being thrown by The Rabbi AKA The Darkness who normally has no interest in me or my body- who was now ogling my breasts like they were dancing dreidels or matzoh balls made of platinum. He also knew who I was immediately which was pretty cool. This gentleman…a RABBI even, found that his hands had minds of their own, and was soon fondling my boobs. Of course, because this is my luck, just as I am getting over my crush on him…we go to second base. Oy. The party was pretty sweet, and I had a lot of fans…was even runner up in the costume contest….but when it was time to go home-I was ready. Ready to be rid of my balloobs. So I released one into the air and gave one-still warm- to the dude who sat next to me and looked like he may have wanted to chat, but unfortunately I was DONE. Only so much a shy gal can take. He commented on the balloon warmth and I bounced, still wearing the outrageous blond wig…but feeling more like myself. Thankfully, NO MORE COMMENTS ABOUT MY BODY!

All in all, it was a pleasant experience. I was just astounded at how many people-DUDES mostly- thought the breasts were real and were excited. Just proves my theory that men just can’t help themselves. Real or OBVIOUSLY fake, they want to put.it.in. I mean, if a dude was walking down the street with what appeared to be the largest cock in the land, I don’t think many women would think it was real or would be too excited…cuz what are you gonna do with ALL that, really?!