where the cornflakes are

this blog may appear to be experiencing an on-going existential crisis - it isn't quite sure whether it's about knitting, crip stuff or life in general

Friday, February 17, 2006

A unique valentine's day compliment I may never hear again

Actual text message exchange in which I engaged on Valentine's Day:

Me: Just saw Brokeback Mountain. You were right - I cried my head off! If I could be reincarnated I think I'd like to come back as a gay cowboy in the 60s, just so I could support the cause!

Sean: I think you'd make a fantastic gay cowboy, whether in the 60s or today! The hat and the boots would be most becoming! Can you ride a horse?

Me: I think that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day! Alas, I cannot ride a horse.

Sean: Well I guess you wouldn't necessarily NEED the horse... That's what the other gay cowboys are for!

Me: Err... Are we talking about MY ideal afterlife or YOURS?

So while there were no lovely Valentine's Day surprises for little old me this year, I may have inadvertently found a new ambition. I do already have some very cute cowboy boots!

Monday, February 13, 2006

I weep for the future

I've been meaning to do a post for a while about a letter I received in the mail just before Christmas. I just read something over on Gimpy Mumpy that reignited my anger, so I've decided to finally do it. That, and Marmite reminding me that I'm not really the most regular blogger in the world. ;-)

Anyway, this letter was a copy of a referral to a gynecologist. Kind of a long story, but I had this weird migrane and my regular doctor wanted to take me off the pill because she thought it might be related to that. I'd had an infuriating conversation with her at the time, because she assumed that stopping the pill would have absolutely no consequences for me at all. I was frustrated to have to explain (after repeated attempts at hinting) that I use it for birth control, not just for the hell of it. After she picked her jaw up off the floor and poked her eyes back into their sockets, she asked many inappropriate questions about whether or not I only shag other crips, then decided to put me in the "too hard" basket and send me to someone else.

She's such a twit that I really shouldn't have been surprised when I read the letter that began - "Stella has severe Osteogenesis Imperfecta and is wheelchair-bound. Surprisingly, however, she is sexually active and requires contraception."

Um, excuse me? Surprisingly? Wheelchair-bound? I wasn't quite sure whether the subtext was, "despite being completely hideous and socially unacceptable, Stella occasionally gets some action", or perhaps "Oh my God, this thing might actually breed!" Even more horrifying was actually going to see the gynecologist, where I had to justify my disturbingly normal lifestyle once again. I'm 23 years old, women my age occasionally have partners, and sometimes even shag them. To assume that I don't, based on nothing other than the way I look, is totally offensive. Never mind the fact that using contraception is actually a responsible and sensible thing to do, and no-one should ever have to justify that.

My anger about this experience was re-fuelled this morning when I read about a woman with OI who has just had a baby. Obviously, the fact in itself doesn't make me angry, I think it's kind of cool. People have been telling me about it all weekend though, just because I have the same impairment. Although my stroppy crip reaction is to roll my eyes and ask why I should care about that any more than I would if anyone else had a baby, I've resisted. It is an interesting story, and a wonderful thing that a much loved baby has been bought into the world.

Reading Mumpy's account of things this morning though, I've discovered that, as usual, there has been some seriously dodgy reporting of it by the press. This article is pretty indicative of that. "Her tiny, distorted body left little room for a fetus to grow and Vasquez suffered two miscarriages before doctors at Stanford University's Lucile Packard Children's Hospital delivered her son, Timothy, by Cesarean section on Jan. 24."

Sigh. What hope do we have if we keep reading these sorts of things about ourselves and our lives? Even from doctors, supposedly some of the more educated people in society. It's no wonder so many crips grow up with hang-ups and self-esteem issues.

On that note, I'd best be getting my "tiny, distorted, wheelchair-bound body" back to work, ey?

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Can I play too?

I'm not entirely sure if I got "tagged" with this or not, but I thought I might as well join the game!

Two jobs in my life
Salon Assistant - if I NEVER have to scrub another comb in my life, it will be too soon!
Arts Administrator - current job

Two films I could watch over and over
Garden State
The Princess Bride

Two places I have lived
Stawell - where my family still live

Two TV series that I enjoy
Sex and the City
The Secret Life of Us

Two places I have been on vacation

Two foods I love
My mum's roast potatoes
Kalamata Olives

Four Websites I visit daily
Marmiteboy on Toast
Lady Bracknell
BBC Ouch
The Age

Two bloggers who should play
Amanda (missing you!)