Written by: Gabrielle McLaren, Lesbian-in-chief 3

Dear friends and family,

My fingers shake as I type this blog post, I have never felt more fear in my life. The children’s show, Arthur, is attempting to eradicate straight people.

I was a dedicated member of the straight community for years. As an aspiring beauty YouTuber (follow me on insta at @heterobeauty5ever), I never had even one unnatural thought about leaving my beloved high school sweetheart, Brad, for someone who actually understands my passion for the art of makeup.
Or so it used to be.

Brad and I were dating for five beautiful years. We met in Mrs. Benston’s French immersion class in grade 10, and it was love at first oui (I was going to say that line at our wedding). Brad and I went to prom together after he prom-posed in the cafeteria (it was extra romantic because it was Chicken Nugget Day and he arranged his chicken nuggets into a heart!). I knew we were supposed to be together. I mean, at our Halloween party, themed Mathletes vs Athletes, he actually started crying when I got mad at him after he made out with my gorgeous friend Kristin.

We were soulmates. Until Arthur stole my life from me. Until the insidious show turned me gay.

It was a surprise attack, not simply on vulnerable straight women, but on our impressionable children as well. I was babysitting two children who love watching Wholesome Godly Family Friendly Television. Arthur is a beloved show that I myself grew up watching. I was betrayed by the antics of that adorable anthropomorphic aardvark.

As we watched Mr. Ratburn and his partner lovingly stride down the aisle, it hit me. This wasn’t a wedding. This was a heathen ritual. I was seeing love between two male-gendered cartoon characters… and, I have to be honest, even though it will shock you, I felt a spark of happiness.

Wasn’t love supposed to be between Brad and I? 5ever? What did these two male rats know, and why did I… like it?

I immediately excused myself to sprint to the bathroom. I’d heard tales of women transforming into lesbians, and I knew I had to protect the children from seeing any other horrors that night. Panting, I splashed cold water over my face, but the change was impossible to stop now.

I blacked out then, and when I woke up, I looked in the mirror and realised that I had chopped off my luscious blonde locks into a boyish cut. Using a razor I must have found in the shower, I had given myself an undercut. I’d pulled off my bra to free the nipple and set the oppressive garment on fire in the bathroom sink. Suddenly, whenever I looked at a long, vaguely phallic object (even the toothbrushes in the bathroom) I felt disgust. I yearned for the warm embrace of flannel.  

I had become gay because of Arthur.

I called Brad in tears that night to warn him of the danger.

“It’s not, like, your fault,” he wisely said. PBS was responsible for this tragedy. If only our local television channel had followed in the nobel decision of Alabama Public Television and banned this show from the air, this wouldn’t have happened.

Friends and family, you wouldn’t even recognize me. I wander the streets alone (I took an awesome self-defence class) and whenever I see a woman I have an inexplicable urge to cry out of pure joy. Conversely, when I see men, I want to scream. I have become a vegetarian and itch to transition into a fully organic, locavorious vegan diet. U-Haul is in my speed dial. I bought a Subaru. My fake nails inexplicably fell off my pointer and middle finger. My transformation into pure lesbianhood is nearly complete.

If you are a woman who loves putting time into your boyfriend’s interests though he never cares about yours, who dreams of sharing those quirky alcoholic mom memes on Facebook, never, ever watch Arthur. Or your fate will be like mine, tied to the cycle of the moon, drawn to wherever there is a succulent sale.