Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)

by Mindy Kaling

One friend with whom you have a lot in common is better than three with whom you struggle to find things to talk about.

We clung to each other with blind loyalty, like Lord Voldemort and his snake, Nagini. I, of course, was Nagini.

laughed because, as everyone knows, laughing is a great way to disguise heavy breathing.

It’s not like if you’re in Los Angeles, where everyone’s so actively working on cheerfulness and mental and physical health that if they sense you’re down, they shun you.

I was worried I would be the subject of a reverse kind of book: a pathetic tale of a girl with a great education who frittered it away watching syndicated Law & Order episodes on a sofa in Brooklyn. From Dartmouth to Dickhead it would be called. I needed a job.

I respond very well to people being overly familiar with me a little too soon. It shows effort and kindness. I try to do this all the time. It makes me feel part of a big, familial, Olive Garden-y community.

A not 100-percent-perfect-looking-in-every-way female? You might as well film a dead squid decaying on a beach somewhere for two hours.

If you look closely, you can see this woman’s ribs through the dress she’s wearing—that’s how skinny she is, this cheesecake-loving cow.

I will throw a salad across the room if there are chickpeas in it, I swear to God.

Also, I’m your “hero”? What am I, ten thousand years old?

Also, chubby people can never truly pull off ethereal the same way skinny people can never be jolly.

Lots of stupid people were skinny, and yet I couldn’t do this incredibly simple thing they could do with seeming ease.

I cut my hair very short while staring at myself in the mirror with dead eyes.