This post is a ghost from a Halloween past…but couldn’t resist sharing again this season.
A few years ago I was dying to dress up as Kid Rock and needed a trashy Pamela Anderson to hang all over me. Because my dad is no stranger to the spotlight (and always my hero) he leapt at the chance.
But how in the hell do you transform a 6’4″ man into a petite (OK not happening….ever), blond, big busted bombshell?
You start feet first by carefully applying polish to gigantic toes.
Top off the precious pedicure with an orange bow (to make those feet look a teeny tiny bit more feminine and festive).
Next, a base for the famous face must be applied as the transformation continues (the application of foundation “hurt his face,” according to this cross dresser).
Also be sure manly Pam has brushed his teeth this century before getting too close.
The trickiest and final step is squeezing Pamela into her costume because we created her famous rack by stuffing as much quilt batting as possible into nylons.
Dying a men’s tank top red (and almost ruining a washer in the process) we applied masking tape to create the Lifeguard logo. I scored the checkered shorts in the very big ladies section at Wal-Mart (go figure), topping man Pam off with a blond wig.
But by God, she ended up looking like a fabulous Baywatch knock-off and now all Pamela needed was her handsome rock star flavor, Kid Rock.
Our band of misfits were all gussied up, ready to fill our party drinking cups.
With the complete transformation in place, Pammy was (happily, excitedly, thrilled to be) the center of attention. She tended to overshadow even the most glamorous celebrities at the party.
Everyone was completely obsessed with Pam’s chest – even men that view breasts as their day job.
But even the ladies couldn’t resist a round with Pamela’s chest.
Although this real life odd couple went on to hit the skids, Kid and Pam were able to let bygones be bygones this particular Halloween.
And while this may not be the Pamela Anderson of everyone’s dreams, she’s awfully pretty to me.
And that my friends is how you transform your studly, ex-NFL playing father into a sex pot.
But let’s not forget, beauty is in the eye of the beholder…
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