Don’t Ask Me That…

People ask me the most ridiculous questions about my disease…

“I heard cinnamon cures diabetes…”
“Doesn’t cranberry cure it? Or it helps, right?”
“You can’t eat this right?” (points to cupcake they’re about to shove in their mouth)
“Wow. You give YOURSELF shots?” (As if I have somebody else to do this…)
“Does it hurt?” (Yes, asshole. I mean only sometimes).
“Did you get it from eating a lot of candy?”  Nope, but LOVE candy.
“What happens when you drink?” (I get drunk). “You can’t really do anything, right?” (Ummm, we clearly aren’t friends…)
stfu
NO GUYS – in fact, I am not a typical basic betch. I’m sort of just a normal ish (psycho) girl over here dealing with/coping with/owning the SHIT out of Type 1 Diabetes. I’ve been blessed screwed with this awful disease since I was 14 and I wish every single day that I was a basic betch. That is the biggest fucking lie of my entire career as a human being. But I do REALLY get annoyed with not being able to starve myself OR better, eat ice cream without feeling the guilt that normal people have to feel from it PLUS the fact that my blood sugar is going to be high for like 2 hours following and I’m going to feel like shit. And it’s much worse than feeling like shit for you lactose intolerant people – so I do not feel bad for you.
Or maybe I’ll feel totally fine… up to YOU, universe. LIVE ON. Go ahead, ask me a question… (keep apple juice on standby though).
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