When you can't open the door to get to class, why are you even paying tuition?
When you can't open the door to get to class, why are you even paying tuition?

Sexability: My body and I

Most of the time, my body and I are separate beings

March 18, 2017 /

aHi y’all. I’m sorry for not writing an article last week, but my brain needed a break. But I’m back now and ready to talk to your sexy selves.

Everyone has a different relationship with their body. Most of us have things we want to change about or bodies. Some of us may want smaller tummies, thicker hair, differently shaped eyes or whatever else we choose to beat ourselves up about on that particular day. I struggle with this daily dose of bullshit but I also have a rather unique obstacle. You see, my body and I, well most of time, we’re separate beings.

Due to this whole Spastic Cerebral Palsy thing my body doesn’t always do what I want it to. For example, if I’m late, in the middle of the sidewalk on a fucking freezing afternoon, I really don’t want to take time to let a body spasm take its course. I know that if keep moving, the faster I’ll get warm and ergo lesser/no spasm.

My limbs, however, are not logical. Getting them to move can sometimes feel like trying to unbend steel or a thick branch. During these rather epic battles of will, I find myself  trying to reason with the troublesome bit. For example, if it’s my driving arm, I may say something like, “I know your cold, but the sooner you move the sooner we’ll be warm.” Strangely this approach seems to work more often then not. Unfortunately, it also makes me feel like a nutbar!

These inner dialogues follow me into the bedroom, as well. Just because I’ve decided I want my partner to go down on me doesn’t mean my vice-like legs are going to let them. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes they do, but sometimes the little fuckers just don’t wanna cooperate. On those days, I feel more separate from my body then ever. On the days it does cooperate, I feel like we’re one: the pain stops and I don’t feel different or weird. I’m just me.

Posted in

Vicky Levack

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