A few days ago I liked a post on Facebook. It was a post with a photo of cake. Not just any cake, mind you, but a rainbow cake. It was a white cake with rainbow frosting between each layer. Much to my surprise, “liking” this cake was my coming out. I kid you not. I received two congratulations, an “I’m not surpised” from my bff and an offer for drinks from one of my daughter’s friend’s mother. I guess that would be considered a good week by some but here it is: I’m straight. I just liked the photo of the cake.
I don’t know what any of this means. I have nothing against any one group or organization. I hate based on two things: How much work they/it are and how stupid they/it are. As far as marriage goes, have at it. I’m against the institution itself. That and I don’t like people in my house. Truth be told, I have been a hag my whole life. The natural order of things for me goes like this:
- 80’s New wave bands(Brits only)
- Gay men/Lesbians
- Fat straight girls(Me)
Crazy I know. I don’t care. It is how I see things. Behind every great looking gay man or brilliant well dressed artist type, there I am. Whether it was playing Barbies, crying over prom dates, drinking too much, complusive eating, guyliner, theater or poetry, there I am in all my fat hag glory. I have even made some straight men I know gay in my mine because I know they are not into me. It keeps me sane. Yes, it is true: I’m a fat girl with Daddy issues. The only people that love penis more than me are my gay husbands.
Alas, my love of food outranks my love of penis. It always has. Food doesn’t beat me, talk down to me, stand me up or take me to court. I’m not running to my phone every five minutes wondering if my lunch is texting me. Food only has one draw back: I’m fat. I don’t even mind that so much since I put a “closed for business” sign on my vagina.
I guess what I want to say is that, once again, my bad habits have caused a misunderstanding. So for the record, I’m straight and I really love cake.
Photo credit: Robert Cooper