Living with MBC and dealing with the ways people try to help.

Like tonight: my neighbor was fucking insistent I drive her golf cart around our neighborhood, which is something I had zero interest in doing. But when I tried to beg off, she was like, “OMG treat yourself, girl! Live a little.” And I was thinking: Live a little? It’s a fucking golf cart, bro.** But then I just did it because she wouldn’t take no for an answer and I just wanted it over. The entire situation was awkward and anxiety-inducing, not relaxing or fun. At all.

I know people mean well, but geez.

Oh and then there are the Jesus People…

**(I later joked to D that I should have replied, “Come inside and fuck my husband. That’s living a little, Mindy.”)