I came across the photo, above, while surfing the internet. The person who posted it thought the photo “perfectly” represented Colorado.
I believe this spirited person (possibly a woman) is dressed as a cow. But without an udder… so maybe not?
Maybe as a steer?
Or… as a gender-neutral bovine?
The website where I found the photo said: “Colorado, a magnet for eccentric souls who embrace their quirks and seek out peculiar photo opportunities against a breathtaking backdrop…”
Well, the fact is, you can hardly pose for a photo anywhere in Colorado without having a breathtaking backdrop. Even if you wear a quirky costume, and spread your arms like you’re trying to block the view, the backdrop will usually upstage you.
If you were a eccentric Coloradan seeking out a peculiar photo opportunity, you could do worse than dressing up as gender-neutral bovine. (I’m having trouble with that previous sentence, because bovines do not typically exist with a ‘gender-neutral’ identity. They are either female — ‘heifers’ if they haven’t yet borne a calf; ‘cows’ if they have — or male — ‘bulls’ if they are still intact and ready for action; ‘steers’ if they’ve had certain parts removed and really have no reason to keep on living.
We had about 3.8 million cattle in Colorado in 1973. (And only about 2.3 million people.)
By 2022, the cattle population had dropped to about 2.6 million. (And people everywhere: 5.7 million of them.)
Looked at another way, we had more than one bovine per person in 1973. Now we have less than half a bovine per person.
Those kinds of declining bovine numbers could make anyone want to dress up like a cow (or a steer) and pose for a photograph with a breathtaking backdrop.
For some reason, I’ve never dressed up as a cow (or a steer). Never got around to it, I guess.
But I did dress up, one Halloween, as a girl. Back when I was about 21. I must have been at least 21, because I definitely remember walking into a popular bar downtown. I had long hair at the time — longer than shoulder-length — and that evening I wore a flowing yellow dress I’d borrowed from a friendly woman who lived in my same apartment building. She also loaned me her high heels. (I did not wear women’s underwear; just so we have that straight. Except of course I wore a well-padded bra.)
I went easy on the lipstick and eye shadow. I’ve never approved of heavy makeup. I think a woman should let her natural beauty shine through.
I definitely remember walking into the downtown bar, because the men in the bar immediately started hitting on me. (I will admit, I looked really cute.) It was a strangely pleasant feeling to have miscellaneous men, in various states of intoxication, offering to buy me drinks, and wanting to know my name.
That normally doesn’t happen to me.
Strangely pleasant, and also mildly exciting. Like I was somehow special, just because I was female.
This was back when I was still a Democrat. Generally speaking, Democrats don’t mind, if men want to dress up as women. (Or, if women want to dress as cows, for that matter.)
We have a lot of Democrats here in Colorado, to judge by recent election results.
Our cattle ranchers, however, tend to be Republicans. With limited options, in terms of wearing costumes. Mostly, they can only dress as cowboys.
Underrated writer Louis Cannon grew up in the vast American West, although his ex-wife, given the slightest opportunity, will deny that he ever grew up at all.