Body Image & Disability

I was born with a rare form of muscular dystrophy, affecting my body and physicality. I have a severe scoliosis (curvature of the spine) which, for various reasons, is not surgically corrected. This causes asymmetry and a shortened torso. Joint contractures mean I am unable to stretch out my arms or legs. Furthermore, the muscle wasting nature of my condition results in extremely thin limbs.

Illustration by Jess Oddi @TheDisabledLife

Now 31, I look very different from other women my age. My pixie-sized stature is emphasised by the scoliosis. In place of womanly curves, are unwanted and abnormally crooked humps and bumps. This visible contrast negatively impacts my sense of self and makes me feel odd, weird, and self-conscious.

I love fashion but fashion doesn’t love me

Over the years, I have desperately sought to hide my body with shapeless, baggy clothes. Anything resembling a potato sack is a winner. I live in leggings because jeans are a no-go and frankly, they are the next best thing to pyjamas!

Clothing manufacturers don’t cater for my body since it doesn’t meet standard criteria. Shopping is not an enjoyable experience. It is a frustrating and disappointing struggle to find anything at all to fit, let alone look flattering. Most of the clothes I buy have to be returned which makes me wonder why I bother at all – well, simply because I can’t roll about naked!

Accepting my unique body

Do I love, embrace and celebrate my unique body shape? Hell, no! BUT – I have slowly and gradually learnt to accept it. After all, there’s absolutely nothing I can do to change it. So why stress myself out over something I cannot control.

Exercise isn’t an option for me. I can’t go to the gym and buff-up. And why should I resort to cosmetic surgery? Why put myself through pain, trauma and financial strain simply to conform to societies high and unrealistic standards of beauty? Okay, it might make me feel more confident to look a little more like the average woman. Then again, it might not…

Societal standards of body beautiful

Our perception of body image and beauty is arguably increasingly influenced by social media, particularly Instagram. Heavily airbrushed, edited and filtered selfies are everywhere to be seen. With a smartphone, we can all look like a celeb from a magazine spread!

But this is misleading, unrealistic and unattainable. I can’t relate to the pouty, posers of Instagram. Honestly, can anyone?!

Diverse bodies are sadly under-represented in the media. This is starting to improve but there is still a long way to go before the presence of disabled bodies on our screens becomes mainstream.

One of Those Days…

Nosey Bints, Parking Tickets and Frustrating Phone Calls

They say bad luck comes in threes…or is it multiples of three? 

I’m generally fairly tolerant with day-to-day annoyances and ignorant people.

As a wheelchair-user, I’m used to complete strangers who feel entitled to stare or approach me for interrogation. They tend to be so ridiculous I choose to simply laugh it off.

Don’t sweat the small stuff, right.

But there are also times when my patience is wearing thin. Some days, I’m just not in the mood!

Today is one of those days.


I attended a routine hospital appointment and parked my Motability WAV in a disabled bay, with my blue badge clearly displayed, as usual.

As I reversed out of the WAV, I heard a woman stood directly behind me shouting, “I’m just having a nosey inside!”

*Cue eye-roll* Oh, feck off, lady!

I then waited in a small room crammed full of virally infested patients for well over an hour, only to be told the nurse I was due to see went home sick hours before. Which begs the question – why not inform me of this on arrival?!

I waited a further half an hour to be seen by another nurse. At least it wasn’t a wasted journey, I guess.

Having returned to my car, I was ever-so-slightly pissed off to find a parking ticket!

As soon as I got home, I logged-on to check out the meaning of this fuckery. As I suspected – no reason for issue, no explanation and no photo evidence.

Needless to say, I wrote a strongly worded appeal. Under no circumstances will I be paying this unjustified “parking charge”. No, just no!

Shortly after, I received a phone call from the CHC (Continuing Healthcare) department who claimed to have made a personal care payment back in the summer. They didn’t.

I won’t go into details (it’s a long story!) But my battle with Continuing Healthcare has been a lengthy and stressful one, with absolutely no benefit.

Okay, putting things into perspective, this isn’t the end of the world! I’m now sat watching cartoons with my beaut of a nephew. So it aint all bad!

As I say, some days you’re just not in the mood.

Tomorrow will be kinder…we hope!

Anyone got any rum??

Disability & Self Worth | You are not unloveable

I think most people living with a chronic illness, disability or mental health issue can relate to this quote, at least to some extent. I know I do.

I am limited by my physical disability (congenital muscular dystrophy), despite the claims by some that you can do anything if you just try hard enough. As a non-ambulatory wheelchair-user with a muscle-wasting condition, I’m afraid there are certain things I cannot do.

I am heavily reliant on others to carry out daily activities such as cooking, cleaning, locking doors, opening and closing windows and so on. I also need help with personal care tasks like getting in and out of bed, dressing and bathing. This can be undignified, thus affecting my confidence and making me feel incredibly self-conscious and utterly undesirable. After all, who wants their boyfriend to shower them?!

I HATE asking people to do things for me, as I then feel a burden, a nuisance, an annoyance. Having to ask people to simply open a bottle or a can at the grand old age of 30 is frankly embarrassing (for me).

Sometimes I refuse to speak up and request help. Call it pride or sheer stubbornness. But there are other times I have no choice. Like it or not, I have to ask, to instruct, to explain.

For the most part, I’ve managed to conceal the extent of my disability from those around me. Many people, friends included, think I am much more able and independent than I actually am. Again, put it down to pride. But there are some people I can’t hide this from. Family members, of course, but also anyone I am romantically involved with.

Due to the nature of my disability and all the added extras – care requirements, dependency, restrictions, the inability to be spontaneous – I always believed myself to be undeserving of love. I genuinely thought *think* of myself as an unnecessary burden. Why would anyone put up with me, my weak, crooked body and all of my baggage when they could choose to be with someone else?

As a result of this and a lifetime of rejection, I put up barriers and distanced myself from society; a form of self preservation. Being told repeatedly that I’m not good enough, I’m “no one’s type”, and “too much to take on” has made quite a negative impression on my self-esteem.

Now, I don’t want to ramble or get too personal. But I am slowly starting to trust and believe I am worthy of love and companionship.

They say there’s someone for everyone. The cynical part of me still questions this. But maybe, just maybe, there is.

It takes an extra special person to accept me and my care needs. To take on, without question, a pretty drastic lifestyle change. To see past the wheelchair, the crooked body, the medical equipment and the disability itself, and simply love me for me, unconditionally. To try to convince me every day that I’m not undesirable, unloveable or a burden. People like this are rare, but they are out there!