Sometimes you just need to be a zombie

You have no idea how fun it is to dress up like She-Ra (’80s cartoon character, sister of He-Man).

I’m usually known as “She-Ra in a wheelchair” (instead of just She-Ra) whenever I do it. It kinda pisses me off, but what do you do, the large glaring power chair cannot be ignored. I have never let it stop me though.

Some of the happiest moments I’ve had since becoming paralyzed have happened while I’ve been dressed up. Also, check out the awesome Zombie Pool Party photo montage featuring three zombified women w/ disabilities. Read this entry

Why I Run My Site

I received a beautiful letter validating the very reason why I’ve been running this site, Beauty Ability, since 2003.

It came from the mother of a 17 year old girl who recently found my site. Having “up there” confidence and thinking you’re beautiful is never easy when you’re a teenager, let alone when you’re in a wheelchair.

Hi Tiffiny,

I found you through my daughter Leanne.  Leanne has Spina Bifida and uses a chair.  We live in the country and she is the only person here that uses a chair.  She has gone through all of her life with no true peers and now that she is 17 and watching the world go on around her it has been rough. 

She has not been able to see any positive in her life for some time.  Throughout each day I hear “I hate my life” more times than I can bear.  Throughout her life I have worked to find opportunities to introduce her to the disability community, without success. 

Locomotor a waste of time?

Maybe I’ve been paralyzed too long, but there are a bunch of new therapy programs out there that I question.

Let me preemptively say that locomotor training has a lot of great benefits (it’s good for weight-bearing, making your muscles move, organ-hanging party time).  It’s a pretty intense therapy where they strap you into a harness (that’s attached to a bar above your head) and hang you above a treadmill. Read this entry

My behind the wheel therapy

When I’m behind the wheel of my vehicle, no one can tell I use a wheelchair (no disabled plate, only a placard). And I gotta say that feeling is pretty hard to beat

But the anonymity of being just another driver on the road is one of several reasons driving my has become the best form of therapy I‘ve ever run across.

When you’re disabled and depressed, doctors tell you to take pills, or to meditate, but no one ever mentions the therapeutic benefits of getting behind the wheel and being fully in control of a car (and for the life of me I can’t figure out why!).

They’ll mention you’ll be able to drive again, and they’ll tell you the steps you need to make it happen, but no one ever tells you driving can be used as a secret weapon for people with disabilities against the blues. Read the rest of my blog