Warning: This is not the fault in our stars. This blog is an honest account of the brutal, gross, hilarious, unexpected realities of being “the sick kid.” While i love me some John Green as much as the next girl, I am done with the neatly wrapped, sepia toned, 2 hours -till -happily – ever -after- Hollywood presentation. This is the real version, where hand tremors ruin your selfies and your eyeliner, and nobody’s kissing in the rain, and you don’t look like Shailene Woodley. My diagnoses was six months ago, and Ansel Elgort is nowhere to be found. I’m calling BULL. You fantastical readers are invited to join me. Stay badass, dolls. Welcome to the party.
Sidenote: This blog isn’t just for the sickies among us. Those of you immunity-blessed are also invited to read about my magical adventures. They’re funny even if your body isn’t attacking itself, promise. Beauty (the lazy girl kind,) health and fitness, relationships, food (SMOOTHIESSSSS,) will all be covered. One blog fits all, dolls ;*