Tis the season! For annoying Catholics. Get out your purple ceremonial robes and- wait. What? YOU DON’T HAVE PURPLE CEREMONIAL ROBES?! Oh, right I forgot. You aren’t Catholic.
Every year in the beginning of March, the LGBTQ community appropriates a tradition from one of the oldest, most bigoted religious institutions in the world. Yea, yea, the new Pope is super cool. But you know what hasn’t changed about the Catholic Church? My favorite mantra: love the sinner, hate the sin. So don’t worry… you can be gay, but just don’t act on it. Ever. Anytime. Just… live a life of isolation like a good gay Catholic, will you?!
My roots in Catholicism go balls deep: I was raised Catholic. The tradition of Lent goes back to a time of repentance and contrition that was designed to help the average Catholic relate to the suffering Jesus went through for our sins. Why 40 days? Some Council in 325 A.D. was like, “Ok, yea. 40 days is enough. I could handle forty days without a blow job from a 12 year-old.” Some say its because Jesus fasted in the desert for 40 days, other say its from the Moses myth (and I use the term myth fucking deliberately). But the bottom line is… it’s 40 long ass days. And let me tell you, giving up french fries my junior year of high school (excluding Sundays because those aren’t counted on the Lenten calendar so I ate french fries every Sunday) was very difficult. My knee rolls were ACHING for some delicious fried taters on the side of my chicken souvlaki in the lunch room every Wednesday. Life was really tough for me. But lets just call a spade a spade, and a queer a queer, and admit what is really going on this lenten season:
IT’S PRE-PRIDE SEASON, LADIES (AND LESBIANS).
You know what that means? We are only two months away from our MONTH. The only month we get every year. The month where festivals and parades consume weekends at a time, all mostly a blur between drunk eating that gyro and seeing your ex romping around on drugs kissing a tree. And you know what? I WANT TO LOOK GOOD. No one wears pants, few of us wear shirts, and everyone is chugging vodka as if Putin just announced a new study confirms that Blueberry Smirnoff turns you gay. It is sexy fucking mayhem.
You know what else? Those Pride pictures linger the rest of the year. You will see them on Facebook and Instagram, and maybe in a few Pride pamphlets. So if your body isn’t wear you want it to be, congratulations. It will be memorialized forever in your friend’s profile picture. Gross. And sure… you won’t look like this:
But no one will ever look that that. Jesus Christ. Those thighs. How did they get that body? They didn’t spend 40 days in the desert being tempted by the devil. They spent 4 hours a day in the gym while being tempted by a guy named Raul who was carrying around fatty hors d’oeuvres at the last cocktail party they were hired to attend.
So let’s get realistic. I’ve already seen Facebook and Twitter posts about what people are giving up… carbs, carbs, and usually some time of carb. Good for you, but do you *really* expect me to believe you are Catholic for 40 days and then a satanic heathen the rest of the year? Let’s all do our Pre-Pride Resolution. And not hide it behind some ancient religious bullshit.
So… I encourage you to set your *own* resolution, share it on social media, and comment here to share your goal. Here is mine. It’s simple, eloquent, and straight to the point.
Happy lifting, queers. See you in June.