As a little kid, there's nothing more painful than having to endure the same question from well-meaning grownups: What do you want to be when you grow up?

When you're 6, do you really have any clue, anyway?

Now as an adult, I find a different query causes me consternation on an annual basis: What are you going to be for Halloween?

Because let me tell you, when you're a 31-year-old size 12, Halloween is a tough place to play.

And trust me: I'm not bemoaning my figure (which is, by American standards, pretty average). I'm bemoaning the process.

It's depressing.

Because this girl just isn't built like a porn star. And sadly, a majority of costumes seem to be most suited to women with big bosoms, and tiny waists who are 5-foot-11 or taller.

As one of my good friends told me recently, "I put on a fairy costume and my boobs were squished up to here (beckoning to her chin) and I looked like a stuffed sausage."

And to be frank, it's tough to find a costume that lacks the Slut Element—the majority of the stuff I've seen looks like bad Fredericks of Hollywood fantasy bedroom wear with the requisite tail, ears or tie.

Regardless, one of my beloved coworkers has decided to go this route and embrace her inner slut, choosing the Wanda Wizard costume (one that shows plenty of cleavage and a lot of leg...and yes, features a tie).

After all, the "Mean Girls" motto is true in real life, too: "In Girl World, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it."

Me? I don't know what I'm gonna do, to be honest with you.

Humor has always been my thing, but you seemingly can't even be funny on Halloween sans sluttiness.

Because I'm pretty sure there is a slutty version of any costume you might think of—no matter how ridiculous.

I've seen a slutty Starbucks costume, a slutty Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, and sadly, even a slutty unicorn.

Maybe my best route is playing The Slutty Journalist (because I just couldn't decide between Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello or Michaelangelo).

If you see me out and about this weekend with a beer in my hand and a T-shirt reading "Reporters Do It AP Style" you'll know I succumbed to The Slut Factor.

Poorly.