In Super Size Me, American documentary-maker Morgan Spurlock eats nothing but McDonald’s for 30 days. By the end of his ordeal, his weight has ballooned, his libido has plummeted and his liver, according to his doctor, has turned into p?.
I’ve yet to see the movie, but it sounds like a fabulous exercise in self-destructive behaviour. Of course its altruism is also to be commended -“ McDonalds will soon launch their Go Active! Happy Meals, complete with pedometer. Pure coincidence, they say. Just wait for the Grimace pilates video.
Inspired by this concept of masochism as entertainment, I decided to go on a 30 day, all-gay diet. One month of unadulterated poofterania. I was forbidden to leave my 2010 postcode; I was allowed to frequent only those venues with little rainbow stickers; and I was limited to eating at establishments that either contained the word jus on the menu or had a staff-hiring policy based solely on one’s ability to look good in a tight black T-shirt.
The first few days were frightening. Frighteningly easy, that is. It struck me that my daily routine didn’t really change much at all. Eventually, though, I began using phrases like, He’s such a hottie! and wearing sunglasses on my head. I started lingering outside the window of Aussie Boys. My weight started dropping -“ and I was thrilled.
By the third week I found myself speaking exclusively in cynical asides. I became unable to look at anyone without silently appraising their outfit, then telling them what I thought. At first this was disguised in caring-girlfriend tones, but gradually an air of absolute authority took over. My inner bitch was unleashed.
As my final days approached, my range of interests had narrowed dramatically. I’d forgotten all previous knowledge of global events that didn’t involve either Britney Spears or the Atkins diet. Friends began expressing their concern, to which I’d respond with a blithe wave of the hand. Oh please! I’d say in my new strangely nasal voice, I know what’s going in the world. I mean, Orlando Bloom? Hello! Hottie!
It took me some time to recover, but it was worth it. I feel I’ve made an important contribution to society and hope to find a distributor for my tale of homo woe. Because with Sydney’s Beat FM, MTV’s plan for a queer channel and poofters running rampant through every other TV show, this all-gay diet is spreading.
Would you like frites with that?