I love to eat.
I love to eat so much, sometimes I can't see straight.
I love to eat so much, ordering take-out from a diner at 4 in the morning can easily (dare I say deliriously?) take the place of a one-night stand.
I love to eat so much, I have to stop...
...For a while, anwyay.
Here are some reasons why:
1. Kirstie Alley.
2. When I order a sandwhich at my corner deli, the guy behind the counter now says to me "Hey, BIG Guy. Whatty'll ya have?"
3. The guy behind the counter at my corner deli didn't used to say that.
4. Despite my tough-girl drag, I'm not sure I'm ready for full Bear/Baby Bear/Bear-Cub status.
5. My baggy pants are now my sexy pants.
6. The phrase "Double Cheese Burger" sounds like a good start or a light snack.
7. Summer's (almost here) and the time is right for dancing in the streets.
8. Marlon Brando.
Mainly, the reason for the mini-pre-summer diet is a simple two-parter:
In the words of my best friend from high school, Jessica: "God, you fags and your fucking eating disorders. I'm so lucky I'm a dyke. No one cares if I get all fat and nasty."
When I was in Miami last month, my sexy-once-upon-a-time trunk shorts burst open at the fly every time I swam, sat up, moved or exhaled, giving passers-by, friends, and strangers an NC-17 peek-a-boo show of all my business.