I love to Dance

No one (man) wanted to dance with me, for I didn't fit into the mode of fit and hot on her feet woman. It would take a little more effort to get this heavy footless woman to move on the dance floor. And no one was interested in taking time and effort to dance with the disable.

Who ladies dance within the western society? Men? well yes men. Often impatient men, more concerned with showing off their skills or lack of it than in being gracious and caring,whose apparent urge is to have it easy with women. But the disabled woman calls for too much patience, to much effort and too much time. Better to go take a beer for there is no reward here why challenge myself says the man- the able body man.

So no one danced with me, technology was no assistance and couldn't stand against plain old attitude - human attitude and technology don't mix well.

Well being me, I danced with myself and learned to have fun dancing with me; I also learned to value myself and not to sit around waiting to be noticed by inconsistent and/or inconsiderate men or people on the whole. So I taught myself to dance within my ability, my pace and my style.

In the long term I thank those men who refused to dance with me for that experience taught me that I'm resilient and I could have fun sans men and sans people if they choose to reject me based on disability.

Now I dance, the tango, the waltz,get down groovy n funky and just gyrate for fun be it with people or alone; upright on my knees or when wearing prosthesis -my form of technology- ooh how I love to dance!!! So play that Soca mon!!!

Glitches

I go to the prosthetic centre and the technician gives me a new supposedly custom built strap for my artificial limb. I am a serious walker so after leaving the clinic feeling relatively secure that I would not encounter no mishaps as I go along on my business. Lo and behold as my foot sink into an unexpected pot hot hole or should I say cup size hole I loose my balance and I am down for the count “1. 2.3.4.5, and like the determined boxer in the ring I struggle to my feet denying the referee and my opponent (in this care the cup hole drilled into the road) the satisfaction of counting me down and out. During all this commotion I have garnered some spectators, most of whom seem to think. "This is live TV and the show is for free"! Anyway eventually someone will yell "yuh alright?” and I'm thinking sure yes I'm alright, as alright as any woman could be after enduring the indignity of unexpectedly falling on her butt as a result of trusting the strap on her a/limb to endure the rigors of any unexpected terrain. "Yeah I'm alright" I reply.