I enjoy when doctors or nurses give us double medications because "we're so big, we can handle it." Then we're loopy for hours because its far more than we should ever be getting.
Or when small children stare up at us in amazement ... and sometimes fear.
Or when we walk around a corner at the same time as someone else and they scream; walk the same street as them at night, and they constantly look over their shoulder, cross to the other side of the street.
Or that time at my great grandma's funeral when the worker asked about my shoe size, then proceeded to laugh and make jokes like "wow, I bet you could ski in those things!" ... at my great grandma's funeral, a woman who had loved me and helped raise me, whose death I was mourning.
When I had heel problems for years, part of me wanted crutches, not to help with the pain, but just to show other people that what I was feeling was real. That I wasn't lazy, or trying to grab attention, but that when I walked my heels burned so badly I barely could.
I see how hard it is for you, not being able to lift things, not wanting to ask for help because you know the looks you'll get, the questions you'll have to answer. That people can't comprehend someone as big as you having trouble lifting something. It's dehumanizing, it makes you alone in your pain. I'm sorry at what you have to go through in all of this. Rely on your family and your friends ... and when you need to, twist a guy's arm until he screams. Being human is good. |