Share Bear Was Fighting for Her Life (And Her Corset)

Halloween happened on a Saturday, and just when we thought the weekend couldn’t get any shorter, the clocks went back an hour. Trust me, everyone was overhyping.

I went as Share Bear, one of the purple Care Bears. The outfit consisted of a purple corset, the shortest purple ruffle shorts, and the general idea that I was going to have a fun night out with my girls.

Except there was one problem: I hated how I looked.

Both of my friends looked absolutely gorgeous. One of them, someone I consider one of my closest friends since high school, has a body that I know many women, myself included, would love to have. Her friend from college looked equally stunning.

And then there was me.

I don’t necessarily want to say I looked ugly, but I certainly didn’t feel attractive.

The corset was digging so deeply into my skin that I genuinely felt like it was restricting my circulation. The fabric at the back was folding and rolling down, creating all these little flaps that made the entire outfit look even less flattering.

It was uncomfortable, it wasn’t sitting right, and I felt incredibly aware of every part of my body.

My friends kept telling me I looked pretty.

Part of me was grateful that they were trying to make me feel better. Another part of me was getting increasingly frustrated because I didn’t want to be convinced that I looked good. I wanted to actually feel good.

There’s a difference.

I know my friends wanted me to come out, have fun, and enjoy the night. But when you’re standing in front of a mirror, picking apart everything you don’t like about yourself, being told that you look beautiful doesn’t necessarily make those feelings disappear.

Sometimes, it almost makes you feel worse.

Because now you’re not only uncomfortable in your outfit, you’re also trying to convince yourself that you should be having a good time.

And the reality is that I didn’t feel like I had many other options. I wanted to be included. I wanted to go out with my friends. I wanted to participate in Halloween like everyone else.

But I also knew that I was walking into a crowded bar, surrounded by strangers, in an outfit that made me feel exposed in all the wrong ways.

When you’re plus-size, going out can sometimes feel like being hyperaware of your own existence.

I eventually had a little liquid courage and decided to go out anyway.

Because apparently, that’s what we were doing.

Getting on the Platform: Making Space for the Girls

Our first stop was a bar, and once we got there, things actually started looking up.

I’ve been to this bar multiple times, so I knew that people were allowed to dance on the platform near the DJ. And I had an idea.

I wanted to get as many plus-size girls up there as possible.

I wanted the girls who might usually stand off to the side, watching everyone else have fun, to come up and join us.

And they did!

One by one, more girls came up to dance beside me. Big girls, beautiful girls, girls you don’t necessarily see represented on those platforms very often.

And there were people cheering us on.

Now, I could sit here and question whether the enthusiasm was genuine. Maybe some people were simply being supportive because it was Halloween. Maybe some of it was performative.

What I do know is that there were women who might not normally have put themselves in that position, and they did.

I was proud of them.

I was proud of myself.

And if the crowd’s enthusiasm just motivated us more. 

Sometimes, you don’t need to question every compliment or dissect every positive interaction. Sometimes you can just let yourself enjoy the moment.

So that’s what I did.

The Halloween Bar Crawl: A Social Experiment I Don’t Want to Repeat

Unfortunately, the good vibes didn’t last forever.

As the night went on, we started walking between places, and I quickly remembered why I have such a complicated relationship with Halloween bar crawls.

The crowds.

The pushing.

The shoving.

I have officially decided that I don’t think Halloween bar crawls are for me anymore.

I may be 23, but this particular version of nightlife is not my vibe. 

I don’t like being pushed around. I don’t like having strangers constantly in my personal space. I don’t like having to squeeze through crowds of people who seem to have absolutely no awareness of anyone around them.

And I think part of my frustration comes from something I don’t always know how to explain.

I’m already very aware of the physical space I occupy. So when I’m in a crowd where everyone is pushing and shoving, it becomes even more overwhelming.

I watched one of my friends being pushed back and forth, and she seemed completely unbothered. She was laughing, giggling, and just going with it.

Meanwhile, I was reaching my breaking point.

I was getting so frustrated that I started yelling at people. I genuinely could not take it anymore.

Maybe it was the crowds. Maybe it was the discomfort I’d been carrying around all night. Maybe it was the liquid courage wearing off and my patience disappearing with it.

Probably a combination of all three.

But I was angry.

And I didn’t want to be there anymore.

So, How Was My Halloween?

By the time the night was over, I was exhausted.

Maybe next year I’ll skip the bar crawl, find a comfortable costume, and spend Halloween somewhere I can actually hear myself think.

But for now, Share Bear has officially clocked out.