A coming-out cookie?

My friend Doug, reading the blog, suggested that a gay person could come out to their parents by using a giant, frosted cookie.

I laughed out loud at your suggestions for what to put on those big
birthday cookies. Surely somebody in America has put Thanks For The Herpes,
Slut! on one of those at some point. I think another good use for those cookies
would be to come out to your parents. Ask the folks at the Cookie Company to
put "Guess What, Mom and Dad — I'm a Homo!" on one of those, in frosting.
At first they'd be like, "Oh no." But then they'd realize it was a cookie,
and they'd be like, "Yay, a cookie!" And they'd think, Our son is gay, but
he was nice enough to tell us with this delicious cookie, so maybe it's
not all bad. I don't know. Your mileage may vary.

How would my mother have reacted to that? Considering that I came out to her three times, one of which involving her asking me if I was having sex with men, I think she might've preferred a cookie. I mean, yeah, there's still all the grief and stuff she went through, but she would've gotten to indulge her sweeth tooth.

My stepmother, on the other hand, wouldn't have liked a coming-out cookie. I told her that I was gay, though my father had already mentioned it, while she was doing her nightly Power Walk through her subdivision. She's big into Weight Watchers.

And my father wouldn't have appreciated a giant cookie outing. He's a diabetic, so he would've thought that I was just trying to override his senses and kill him.

I told him I was gay on top of Buford Dam, while we were both looking out at the lake. That was the best of the coming outs.

I still haven't come out to my stepfather. But he called me "Faggot!" once during a fight, so I think he knows.