Homey and I have been together for lo, these many years so you’d think, you’d THINK he would know me by now. First, I am a total hippie. Second, I am cheap. Third, I am lazy. Fourth, I am stubborn as fuck.
I am sick. I have been sick. I am going to be sick for a while. It is viral. I do not want to go to the doctor because a) there’s nothing they can do for me and b) my immune system is already compromised so why would I go sit in a room with a bunch of sick people?
And you’d think Homey would know that I’m a grownup who can make her own decisions about her own body. AND THAT I’M RIGHT ABOUT NOT GOING TO THE DOCTOR, GODDAMMIT.
So, after the umpteenth conversation about why I’m not going to go to the goddammed doctor, he finally goes, “Well, I guess you’re going to feel bad for your whole life then.”
What?! Yeah, that sounds right. Unless, as I told him, it’s a virus, and I’ll feel better in the next couple days.
This’d be fine if it weren’t for the fact that we have this argument every damn time I’m sick and if I weren’t a grownup who can judge her own damn body’s needs, goddammit.
Sorry... just had to get that off my chest.