If you haven’t read Wendy Shanker’s “The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life” yet, then get thee to a Barnes and Noble. I don’t care if you’re not a girl. It doesn’t matter if you’re not “fat”. This book holds some serious truths for everyone, whatever your size, shape or gender.

As I was reading it, I drew a lot of parallels between being “overweight” and having a disability. They aren’t the same, certainly, but the points Shanker makes about the way overweight people feel about their bodies made a lot of sense to me: not just because I’m thicker than I’d prefer, but because I’m disabled.

You may not agree, but there have been many times in my life where I have felt guilty over my disability. It’s not a guilt I earned, and it’s certainly not a guilt I deserve, but it’s guilt nonetheless. I feel guilty because, if I didn’t have OI, maybe my parents would have more money without all my medical bills to have worried about. If I didn’t have OI, my friends wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not I can do a selected activity, or if I would feel left out if I couldn’t participate. And so forth, and so on.

There’s nothing I can do about any of the above situations. But don’t we all, even when something is out of our control (i.e., someone is sick) apologize for her condition? “I’m sorry you’re sick”. I had nothing to do with her being sick. I didn’t make her sick. But, I’m taking responsibility for it. I had no choice in the matter of having OI. I can’t make it go away no matter how much I may want it to. Yet, I take responsibility for it.

For many people with weight issues, it’s the same thing. Being one of those people, I’ll again use myself as an example. I can exercise (and I do sometimes), but I think I’m just destined to have a gut. If you’re in a wheelchair, you can probably relate. After all, we’re relatively sedentary, and the way we sit (day in and day out), most of our fat gathers in the abdomen. It’s just not easy to lose weight.

Some people simply can’t lose weight. Shanker is one of those people. She’s overweight, but her numbers, her cholesterol, her heart: perfect condition! Yet, society still demands that she and others like her feel guilty for not conforming to this ideal of beauty.

As individuals with disabilities, we don’t conform to this standard either! And even if there is nothing we can do about it, we (or at least, I) feel guilty about it! Shanker got tired of feeling guilty over something she had very little control over. So, she continues to make a concentrated effort to come to peace with her body.

That doesn’t mean she likes it. That doesn’t mean she always feels beautiful. And it certainly doesn’t give her license to simply “let herself go”. Shanker makes certain to point out in her book that she consumes healthy foods and exercises several times a week. What she doesn’t do is allow her feelings of guilt or anger to override her feelings of worth.

As a part of the disabled community, we must do the same. Let’s stop allowing other’s perceptions of us to change the way we feel about ourselves. I know it’s not easy. When I’m in my room, with no one to judge me but stuffed animals and fairy figurines, I am beautiful, smart, creative, funny; everything anyone could ask me to be. But, when I emerge into the world, my beautiful, smart, creative, funny self shrinks away into this shell that I don’t even identify with. People judge me, and I know it, and I sometimes let their judgments rule me.

You don’t have to feel confident to be confident. Just fake it! Nine times out of 10, anyone you asked would describe me as confident. It blows my mind, because inside I’m quaking. You don’t have to believe the vibes you’re putting out. But if you pretend long enough, you will believe them!

Don’t read The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life just for the parallels between being overweight and being disabled. Read it because, as a woman, you want to be empowered. Read it because you want to hear someone else say what you’ve known all along: big is beautiful! Women aren’t supposed to be “hard”, or “chiseled”, or “cut”. We’re supposed to be soft, supple, comforting. Our breasts are meant to be pliable, not rock-like. Our stomachs are meant to be cozy housing for future generations, not something you can bounce a quarter off of.

Do I wish

I was slimmer? Yes. Do I wish I had more muscle tone? Of course. Can I achieve these things? Absolutely. However, what I wish most is to achieve peace with my body. Not contentment: human beings are never content. All I want is to reach a place where I can look at myself in the mirror and say, “Okay”.

Recently, a woman emailed me seeking advice for her cousin. She had seen my articles in our local newspaper and thought I might be able to offer some assistance in his job search.

He is in his early thirties and has a law degree, but he works part-time bagging groceries. He also has cerebral palsy.

Whether his disability has anything to do with his inability to find a job in his chosen field, I don’t know. I didn’t have enough information about his job search to determine if he might have been a victim of
discrimination.

Based on what information I did have, I would say that it is unlikely.

But, as I see it, this really isn’t the problem. In the past few years, jobs have not been readily available, so it isn’t exactly an anomaly to see people working menial jobs way below their abilities.

We all have to pay the bills.

The real problem — at least in this case — has to do with the supplemental Social Security payments he receives. Many of us know the limitations that the government puts on those who can claim SSI.

An individual is only allowed to make so much per month (barely enough to live on, really) and, if he goes over that by the most miniscule amount, his benefits are history.

And, chances are, he won’t be getting them back.

I have looked into such benefits myself. After all, I only work part time, getting paid by the hour. Some months, that can add up to a fairly substantial amount of take-home pay. Other months, not so much.

When it comes down to it (I’ve done the math), at the end of the year, what I take home after taxes puts me squarely in the middle of poverty.

Yet, I still make too much money to qualify.

Thankfully, I still live at home, because I would never be able to afford my own place at this rate. At this point, I’m hoping I’ll be able to move out before I turn 30.

What I’m saying is that the limitations place by the government can be very detrimental to some people who may really need that SSI money.

You may have a high-paying job, but if your medical bills exceed the amount of money you make, and your insurance doesn’t cover everything, what are you supposed to do?

Hope that money tree in your backyard suddenly sprouts

?

Should there be some limits? Of course. SSI is something that should be based on need. That need cannot be discerned by placing blanket limitations over everyone who applies.

Is it really any wonder that the statistics on people living with disabilities are not encouraging? In order to receive any financial assistance, we have to work mediocre jobs, or not work at all.

If we don’t work, we’re lazy and milking the government. If we do work, however, then why do we need SSI?

Quite the ugly double standard, don’t you think?

Something to ponder: Is a disability a weakness or strength?

Interesting question, isn’t it? One that, if you’re like me, you’ve never really considered. But, somewhere in that warm abyss between wakefulness and sleep, that question came to me. There was no provocation for it; it was simply there.

The more I considered it, I realized that I had adopted the thinking of most of society that deems disability as a weakness. It makes sense. After all, the word disability carries a connotation of “inability”, whether or not such an assumption is true.

It means that an individual is not as capable as a person without a disability and, by being less capable, that person is inherently weaker.

Like I said, I absorbed that mindset without intending to do so. Almost unconsciously, I thought of myself as weaker for having OI (Osteogenesis Imperfecta). Maybe such thinking is related to the weaknesses caused by the disease.

My body is fragile and prone to fracture and breakage. I must be ever-vigilant in my daily activities to avoid injury. OI, by its very nature, makes people with the disease naturally weaker.

I likely also absorbed the ideas that society presented to me that I couldn’t do things other individuals could. Logically, I shouldn’t be as intelligent as those around me. I should be utterly dependent upon my family and the few friends I garnered.

Still, as I struggled against this current, I somehow continued to assume that I was, in fact, weaker than the average person. I worked to prove my intelligence surpassed my peers, but by working so hard, I was only covering up what I viewed as weakness.

I went out of my way to prove my independence, to prove my abilities(sometimes resulting in injuries) as a way to counteract what I saw as a weakness.

Now it occurs to me that none of that was weakness.

Rather, it was strength in its truest form: determination. I was determined to overcome obstacles and achieve goals that others thought impossible for someone like me.

I was determined to prove everyone wrong. I am determined to continue doing so.

It is said, “Pain is weakness leaving the body”. Certainly, you could analyze that phrase in purely physical terms, but we all know that pain transcends physicality.

Pain can be emotional, spiritual, mental. Pain takes on many incarnations, and anyone with a disability has likely experienced them all several times, often simultaneously. I know without a doubt that I fall in that category.

Yet, despite those many pains, I have not hidden myself away from the world. I have experienced discrimination, prejudice, and assumptions that are blatantly wrong. I have continued to face these evils and have used them as a jumping-off point for my own life.

Ignorance, arrogance, and discrimination spur me on. They make me want to continue on the same path, to bust down barriers that have not yet been destroyed, to open the minds that remain closed.

If that is not strength, than I do not know what is. To me, continuing on in the face of adversity is the definition of true strength of character. And strength of character is infinitely more important that physical brawn. Such strength isn’t limited to me, or the disabled community.

It is not limited to the African Americans who marched during the Civil Rights Movement or the proponents of Women’s Liberation. It is not limited to any individual or group of individuals. It exceeds disability, race, and gender.

It is obvious to me that anyone who judges any of us as being weak is nothing but weak-minded. To survive and excel in this world as a non-disabled person requires tremendous strength. To survive and excel as a person with a disability requires a gargantuan dose of strength. Our disabilities may well make our bodies prone to weaknesses. But, as they say, what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.

Do you agree with Laura’s opinion? Let us know by sounding off at the Online Forum or at nathasha@audacitymagazine.com .

For, well, 23 years, I’ve been pretty sure that the reason I can’t meet a guy or get a guy I do meet to date me has had to do with my chair. Now, I’m second-guessing that theory.

I’ve jumped back into the fray of online dating. I’ve signed up on a couple of dating sites. (Only free ones. I’m not quite desperate enough to spend money to meet a guy.) But, they haven’t exactly been a boon of potential dates. In fact, I’ve only been approached by two men: the first contacted me twice, was my father’s age and offered to pay me to allow him to perform an act that someone should only want to do for free. I quickly blocked him from any contact. The second was younger, but still much too old for me.

Now, I contend that I have an old soul, but come on!

I’ve put myself out on the line and contacted some guys, all to no avail. I would venture that I’ve contacted about six and nary a word from one of them.

In another situation, I would blame my disability, but these sites, while offering the option of checking “disabled” as body type, don’t require utmost honesty. The picture I put up is only a headshot so, without my telling them, there is no way for anyone to know that I am in a wheelchair. So the lack of responses is quite a blow to my ego.

It’s a sad realization to know that my disability has always been a fallback scapegoat for my lacking love life. It was easy to say that guys my age simply couldn’t handle the fact that I was in a wheelchair and just weren’t mature enough to be with someone who didn’t fit the image of the perfect woman. But, if the disability is nonexistent, at least as far as these other guys are concerned, and I’m still not getting a response, I’m afraid I have to look a little deeper to figure out what exactly is turning them off.

I’d like to think that I’m intelligent, fairly charming, funny and maybe even attractive. At least attractive enough to qualify for a computer screen date. Over the years, male and female friends alike have expressed complete ignorance as to why I can’t find a decent guy to hang out with. They know who I am and, amazingly enough, like me. But, despite a multitude of efforts, I can’t seem to get the wonder that is Laura across to the rest of the male species.

Maybe I exude desperation. Maybe I exude fear. I’d like to believe that I’m not desperate, but I cannot escape the fact that I am afraid. After all, I’m 23 and I’ve never had a relationship. For most people, dating is old hat by 23. For me, it’s an entirely new experience that I have yet to take part in, and the longer I must wait, the more frightening it becomes.

The whole point of this disjointed rant is simply this: Is it me or is it them? If it’s them, then that makes my life easier. “They” can’t see beyond the physical or “they” are only looking for sex and fun. “They” just aren’t worth my time.

If it’s me, then there’s no easy answer. How do I figure out what’s turning the guys off? Is anything turning them off or is it simply not yet my time? If it’s not my time, how long do I have to wait and tell me how to be patient! Am I too serious? Am I too romantic? Am I wrong to believe in “true love” or “soul mates”?

I really hope not. I know that people can fall in love more than once in a lifetime. But I also believe that there is true love in this world, that two people no matter their race, creed or gender can fall in love and stay in love forever. I believe that, on some level, our souls do connect with one another and that soul mates aren’t limited to romantic interests. The problem with that is that every guy who claims to be a romantic is of Orlando Bloom status and totally unattainable by me. (But, if you happen to know Orlando Bloom, give him my number, because, clearly, I’m available.) They admit to being romantics because it ups sex-symbol status and that means more fans shelling out more money. (Although, my dear Orlando would never do such a thing.) Regular guys would never admit to being a romantic for fear of losing face in front of their buddies.

So, yes, I’m cynical about love. In this world, who isn’t? More divorces take place than marriages. Adultery is no longer considered a mortal sin; in fact, it’s practically expected. People raise a riot over homosexual unions, but these are couples that have been together for years, if not decades, making a pledge to each to spend the rest of their lives together. If that isn’t love, then what is? What makes love more pure when it’s between a woman and a man than when it’s between two men or two women?

It’s hard. That’s the only way I can sum this up. It’s hard being 23 and never knowing if I’m going to find love. It’s hard not knowing if I’m doing something wrong. It’s hard to keep trying. But, we do.

Do you agree or disagree? We want to hear from you. Voice your opinion on the Online Forum or send us an email to nathasha@audacitymagazine.com

I’m not interested in being Laura Stinson, disabled writer. No, I just want to be Laura Stinson, writer. I hate the idea of being identified by my disability, with my chosen career being just happenstance. I don’t want to be Laura with the disability who just happens to write; I want to be Laura the writer who just happens to be disabled.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot in recent months because the magazine

where I was doing my internship officially hired me as Editorial Assistant. I’ve never been a published writer other than in Audacity, in my local newspaper and this magazine. And, as far as Audacity and my paper have been concerned, my writing and my disability have been inseparable.

I’m not saying there is anything wrong with this! I love what I do for Audacity and my paper! I truly enjoy being a voice for the disabled community, and I enjoy educating the non-disabled about what my life is really like. These things give me a real sense of purpose in my life, something I was seeking for a very long time.

Still, there is something refreshing and reassuring about being recognized for my talents as a writer without having to correlate them to my disability. It reminds me that my dream of being a writer isn’t just a pipe dream. I really do have the ability to write about all kinds of things, in all kinds of situations and no one has to know I’m disabled!

Maybe it sounds like I’m denying my disability, but I’m not. How could I? It’s everywhere. There are always reminders of it. It’s made me who I am, and I’ve come to a point in my life where I like the person I’ve become. But, if I am being honest with myself—if anyone with a disability is honest with him or herself—then I must admit there are many times every day when I wish I could deny my disability, when I wish I could literally walk away from it all. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t. I’ve accepted the fact that having OI is the cards I’ve been dealt, and I’m living fairly happily with that fact. I know that nothing short of a miracle is going to change my situation, but, no matter how “okay” with that I am, there are days when I long to separate Laura the person from Laura the girl in the wheelchair.

I know that it’s really not possible to do this since one affects the other. But, hasn’t everyone felt this way from time to time? There is something about us that affects the way others see us. For me, that one thing is my wheelchair; I wish that there were a way for people to see me as the person I am rather than the wheelchair I am in.

That’s what I mean when I say I don’t want to be a “disabled writer.” Although my disability has shaped the person I am, I’ve said many times before that it doesn’t define who I am.

I am a writer, plain and simple. Hopefully, I am a good one and those who read what I write are inspired by my words. I hope I bring joy to readers when I write as a writer, but I also hope I bring knowledge to those who read the articles I write about being disabled.

I am so grateful for the chances I’ve had thus far, and I am eager to continue with my writing career, bringing my words and ideas to the masses.