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Returning to college a year after the accident I was as insecure as the next girl about my body, and then some.
We’re not talking cellulite or muffin top here, but withered legs, a slumping stomach and a bunch of ugly scars.
But in the climate that prevailed at the time, people were shocked that I dared to hope for romance and physical intimacy. I was taught all of societies’ biases: that people with disabilities are different, sub-human, to be avoided (which is why we segregated them).
It was as if, somehow, my disability made me less human to them. And yet, when I became one of “them,” I was, still me.
Information emerged organically as we spent time together. ” As we reached different stages of intimacy, he asked more questions. I graduated from law school and got a good job (no small thing when the unemployment rate for people with disabilities is 65 percent). And people told me all the time what a saint he was for marrying me.
Fortunately, there are some men, a few men, who don’t see the wheelchair at all. Back in the dating world at 43, during the 2000s, my insecurities—the beauty and body issues—returned in force.