As Halloween creeps up once again, I’m finally facing something I’ve been putting off for four years: the Ali Wong costume I bought ages ago. Yes, 4 years! Back then, I had big plans to channel Ali’s iconic Baby Cobra look—super pregnant, wearing that tight dress and glasses, unfiltered and hilarious. I was so into her Netflix specials, from Baby Cobra to Hard Knock Wife, and of course, her movie Always Be My Maybe. Ali Wong felt like the comedian who got it, you know? She was raw, real, and I admired how she didn’t hold back.
But then, things changed. Ali divorced Justin Hakuta...
But then, things changed. Ali divorced Justin Hakuta...
...her husband, who she’d always thanked as her “best friend” and the father of her kids. For someone who praised him so openly, it felt weird when they split, almost like she’d abandoned this incredible love story. And yes, I started to think—did she just want to ditch the “boring” safety of marriage for adventure? It felt shallow, and honestly, since then, her humor feels forced. That raw, relatable spark she used to have? Gone. Even in her latest series, BEEF, I couldn’t finish it. It was like watching someone try too hard to be something she’s not anymore.
So here I am, 4 years later, wondering if I should finally wear this costume for Halloween. A part of me is like, Why not? It’s just a costume, right? But another part of me feels…off. The costume doesn’t represent who she is to me anymore. And maybe it’s because I’m also at that age, I'm older than Ali but, I've felt the pull to escape the mundane, too. I know the urge to be free, to live while we’re “still young and beautiful.” The truth is, though, that we don’t always think about the endgame.
As women, we sometimes chase short-term excitement, forgetting the priceless value of what we already have. I feel that pull myself sometimes, but then I look at my husband. We’ve been married since I was 20—a young girl, really, just wide-eyed and hungry to be someone. He’s watched me grow from that girl into the person I am today, someone who’s built something to be proud of. And even now, he sees through all of that—the titles, the achievements, the noise. He still sees me as that young girl he fell for all those years ago. He sees through all my shit, you know?
When I think about it, I tear up. My voice literally breaks just talking about it. Because there’s a comfort and a grounding he brings me that no adventure or thrill could replace. He’s my anchor, the one who knows the real me underneath it all, who keeps me steady when I start chasing the next big thing. And honestly? That’s a rare, incredible gift.
And so, I’m torn. To wear the Ali Wong costume would be to embrace something I used to love, something I looked up to. But it also feels like holding onto a version of her that doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe it’s not really about the costume. Maybe it’s about realizing that I’m at a crossroads too, just like she was. I don’t need to chase “newness” or reject stability. I can stay in love with my own life, my own family, and find that spark without throwing away what matters.
So, will I wear it? Still deciding. But whatever I choose, I know one thing for sure: I want to live for the long game, not just the thrill of the moment.
So here I am, 4 years later, wondering if I should finally wear this costume for Halloween. A part of me is like, Why not? It’s just a costume, right? But another part of me feels…off. The costume doesn’t represent who she is to me anymore. And maybe it’s because I’m also at that age, I'm older than Ali but, I've felt the pull to escape the mundane, too. I know the urge to be free, to live while we’re “still young and beautiful.” The truth is, though, that we don’t always think about the endgame.
As women, we sometimes chase short-term excitement, forgetting the priceless value of what we already have. I feel that pull myself sometimes, but then I look at my husband. We’ve been married since I was 20—a young girl, really, just wide-eyed and hungry to be someone. He’s watched me grow from that girl into the person I am today, someone who’s built something to be proud of. And even now, he sees through all of that—the titles, the achievements, the noise. He still sees me as that young girl he fell for all those years ago. He sees through all my shit, you know?
When I think about it, I tear up. My voice literally breaks just talking about it. Because there’s a comfort and a grounding he brings me that no adventure or thrill could replace. He’s my anchor, the one who knows the real me underneath it all, who keeps me steady when I start chasing the next big thing. And honestly? That’s a rare, incredible gift.
And so, I’m torn. To wear the Ali Wong costume would be to embrace something I used to love, something I looked up to. But it also feels like holding onto a version of her that doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe it’s not really about the costume. Maybe it’s about realizing that I’m at a crossroads too, just like she was. I don’t need to chase “newness” or reject stability. I can stay in love with my own life, my own family, and find that spark without throwing away what matters.
So, will I wear it? Still deciding. But whatever I choose, I know one thing for sure: I want to live for the long game, not just the thrill of the moment.
RSS Feed
