Take Me Away.

Oh, my dolls! How was your week? Mine consisted of beautiful weather, lots of game-playing (my mom and I are fierce competitors in a summer Yahtzee marathon tournament!) and of course some shopping in which I bought more magazines than I need, as usual. Here's to an awesome weekend, and here's to these awesome finds the Web had to offer this week!

I can't get enough of this wedding entrance

Look! It's a parade of people in their undies

Isn't the idea of an online book club awesome?

An awesome exerxise in learning to love yourself

A nice collection of gorgeous guys to cool you off!

Don't you love this rustic kitchen decor?

I love summers in the Midwest

I love some of the designs on these leggings and stockings

Where do you stand on the love vs. career debate?

Here's a cool idea for getting creative with old magazines (please tell me I'm not the only one who has piles and piles of back issues all over the place!)

This girl makes me want to do a billion art projects!

A BIG Happy Birthday to Tupperware

I love making homemade pizzas

Is it really time for the fall fashion forecast already?

Check out these unique wedding cakes

I'm in love with romantic wedding proposals, aren't you?

I am so using these flirting tips on my next trip to the grocery store

Are women's magazines really getting that bad?

Not sure how I feel about Taylor Momsen Teen Vogue article

The trailer for the new Alice In Wonderland movie looks very interesting

Ohhhh! Ahhh! It's a human calendar?

These shoes are so my style

Isn't this polka dot fan perfect for summer?

Hmmm, are these guys driving or eating?

I love these umbrellas

A dream realized: Now I can Mad Men myself

I love the uniqueness of this couples photo, don't you?

In the mood for a cute movie? I saw Coraline this week and loved it!

How do you define true beauty?

Don't these sweet treats look positively delicious?

I've always loved Christmas in July

YES! YES! Please stop with the three-day rule

Update: I just realized I'd be remiss if I didn't share the awesome photos from my friend's recent trip to sunny California!

xoxo,


[Photo via Daydream Lily]

From The Mailbag.

I wanted to thank all of you lovelies! I've received so many positive letters in the last week alone. They all mean so much to me, and I honestly never thought anyone would read this little old blog. Everyone says that, don't they? But I completely mean it!

Michell from the wonderful Oh, Mishka writes:

I just finished reading your Disabilities Aren't the New Dealbreakers post and have a few thoughts...

Yes, if you add "I'm a confident, outgoing physically disabled woman with a quirky sense of humor and a love of polo shirts....", you'll probably get fewer responses. However, I'm not sure that's a bad thing. The guys who would respond to you if you didn't add that, but who wouldn't respond if you did, aren't worth your time anyway. That cut a whole lot of losers out of the game and, frankly, makes your job of picking one of them quite a bit easier.

You said you feel like your disability is holding you back in the dating world, but you have no idea how much I wish something had come up that would have stopped me from dating so many of the terrible guys in my past. Instead, you wait a little bit longer than some people, but you"ll know that when a guy is interested in you, it's for the whole package. You'll know he's a kind, caring man who isn't going to let some little thing like a wheelchair get in his way of finding love.

And Leah from All Things Nice writes:

I came across your blog yesterday and i just wanted to say how beautiful and inspiring it is!

I've just started blogging and I'm always looking for new sites to feed my creative side, but this is the first time i have ever felt the need to write to the creater of a site, I could read yours for hours! Your stories, pictures and links fill me with ideas and things to think about.

I also have a disability, it effects my walking in particular and it does get to me now and then, especially when i worry that that's all people see. But reading your blog fills me with such admiration and determination to get on and enjoy life regardless.

I look so forward to following your future posts!

Thanks, Michelle and Leah - and everyone! This is exactly why I'm always honest and never hide from the truth.

xoxo,

Love Quote of the Day.

"I'm a nice girl, but if you break my heart, I'm going to write about you."
-Taylor Swift

Country superstar at only 19, Taylor Swift gets my award for Best Woman Who Tells It Like It Is. She gave this quote in Cosmo, and it just speaks volumes to me. I've never written songs (my gosh, they'd be awful), but I feel just like her when it comes to my writing. A lot of my personal essays are about people - guys who break my heart, guys I wish would notice me, friendship drama, family craziness. I write about my life and the people in it, which is why I always tell people, "If you're in my life, you're never safe. You may just end up in one of my columns."

Because, especially when it comes to relationships, we write to vent, to understand, or just to plainly get revenge on someone. There's nothing better than calling someone out. What I love about Taylor is she uses actual names - the guy who cheated (and had that stupid truck), the guy friend she was madly in love with, that evil Jonas brother (yes, that's YOU, Joe) who broke up with her on the phone. The whole 'real names' thing is something I haven't been able to do yet, especially on the guy front. I don't know; there seems to be just too much vulnerability there. For now, I sort of like being able to subtly call them out with their respective code names.

Is that a cop out? Who knows, but maybe someday I'll be able to use their real names. I think that's precisely when the real fun will start, don't you?

xoxo,

Dating With Disabilities: Questions I'm Asked.

Teaser: Thought the gawking and question-asking was reserved for Hollywood celebrities? Guess again.



Dating With Disabilities: Questions I'm Asked

xoxo,


[Photo via ffffound]

Freaky (Funny!) Friday

Previously on The Melissa Diaries: I'd wasted an entire summer with a broken heart, and for what? I was slowly realizing things were over between Brown-Eyed Editor and me -- not that they ever really even got started anyway. But I was starting college soon, and I knew I needed to redirect my focus. And fast.




xoxo,

Coloring The Clouds.

I always dreamed of doing this as a kid. I always wanted to draw pretty red hearts all over the sky. Wouldn't that be awesome?

xoxo,


[Photo via Pink Needle]

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #26

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:



It's come to my attention that, sometimes, I can be an intimidating force -- like a force field of wind or hurricane not to be reckoned with. I do have a soft, gooey center, I promise, but I do admit that my concrete-like exterior has served as a buffer - a protective shield, if you will.

Was I really reserved and shy when we met? Did you fall in love with me right away, and was I practically oblivious to it? I'm sorry if I was. For so long, I figured that it would protect me from getting hurt - if I couldn't let anyone in, I wouldn't get hurt, right? WRONG. I got hurt, but not from other people who stomped on my heart and pureed it in the blender. No, no. My wounds, it turned, ended up being self-inflicted. I had been hurting myself for far too long, probably longer than I'd ever have let any stupid guy hurt me. And yes, of course, I'm sure my disability had something to do with my sheepishness of late, and honestly, I think I'm always going to be struggling in that department. It's not the easiest thing to approach a guy in a hog-big wheelchair and make it even remotely un-awkward. I'm sure I'm a lot to take in -- and that's even BEFORE I open my mouth.

So slowly, but surely, I suppose I'm (at least) trying - trying to be open, trying to reach out, trying to stomp the shell I've been in instead of continuing to stomp of my own heart, which is, as you know, a beautiful, precious heart.

In the spirit of that, I feel it only fair to give you the home-court advantage (and no, I don't mean it in a kinky way, either; do we need to go over my prude rules again?). Here are some ways to begin to work your way into my heart....Here's the 411on how to approach me. You just might discover I'm not that intimidating after all; heck, I don't even bite...usually.

Eye-Contact Communication
This is numbero uno for me. as I said yesterday, the eyes are the windows to a person's soul, and there's nothing I like more than "eyeing" a guy from across the room. It's that sense of innocent, yet seduction flirtation that I like. NOTE: Guys, if you look me directly in the eyes when you speak to me (which you should anyway) and my reply is a bunch of mumbling nonsensical words and awkward hand gestures, I'm probably in love with you...or at least pretty close to it.

Smile
I can be shy at first, so a strong and confident smile is the key to putting me swiftly at ease. If I smile at you, don't get scared and think it's some sort of twitch from my disability. It means I really, really like you.

Break The Ice With Laughter
They say laughter is the best medicine for a very good reason, and it's especially true in the love game, I've found. I love a guy who can make me laugh, one of those spontaneous, genuine laughs are the best. For example, Young Guns last week just made my day when he showed me how he'd learned to juggle with Play-Doh. It's simple, yes, but it left me smiling the whole day. He was a mighty fine juggler too, I might add.

Just Talk To Me
Did you see this one coming? It seems so easy, doesn't it? Just come up to me and say "Hi..." Then I'll say "Hi..." and before you know it, we're picking out names for our children. Oh, wait, maybe that topic will scare you off again.....

xoxo,


[Photo via Abby Sharp]

Note To Self: Top 5 Things To LOVE About Your Body Right NOW.

Dear Self (insert your name here if you like):



I'm having one of those body UGH! days today. You know, the kind that leave you feeling more frumpy than fabulous. I'm wearing a green sweatshirt that is two sizes too big and my red hair seems a lot more blazing than usual.

It's times like these that I like to take stock in the GOOD things about myself -- it's far too easy to get caught up in the things we can't change and only see them as these big, bad negative things. Newsflash: It doesn't have to be like that. Think about what you like about yourself and what is beautiful about your body. Here are some of my ideas....send me yours too!



Your Brain
Once more with feeling...the brain is, hands down, the sexiest body part. Heck, it's what makes you, well, YOU! So, go ahead and show off noggin of yours!

Your Eyes
I never used to be an 'eye' person. Half the time, I never even noticed the cclor of people's eyes, let alone cared. But the more I looked, the more I saw it: the eyes are the windows to your soul. Deep blues. Radiant greens. Mysterious greys. They all tell a glorious and wonderous story.

Your Freckles
I have freckles all up and down my arms and across my nose. I used to think they were pesky leopard spots, but now I just love to look at them because they remind me of my father. It's funny how something as small (literally! And figurativel!) as freckles can become such a part of you, isn't it?

Your Big Feet
I don't have big feet (imagine how that would look on my short frame!), but my mother does (a size 12 in men's, actually!). They remind me that my grandfather is with me every day, even though he lives 1,000 miles away.

Your Unique Nose
Aren't you tired of all these celebrities (read: We know the truth, Ashlee Simpson) 'fixing' their noses? What's wrong with having pride in your own nose, largeness be damned!



So, tell me what you like about your body....

xoxo,


[Photos via We Heart It]

Housekeeping Update.

There's still time to get in on the action. No, no, not that kind of action!

I'm offering giving a free one-month trial if you'd like. I'd also be willing to give some of your products away in a weekly giveaway. The one-month free trial will run from August 1 to September 1. Please email me (mellow1422 at aol dot com) if you'd like to advertise.

xoxo,

Painfully Obvious Dreams.

The jury has reached its verdict: I suffer from a hopeless (probably cureless) case of being brutally honest even in my dreams. There are no mixed metaphors, no objects meant to represent something else, no images of me standing at the edge of a cliff or me falling endlessly though the sky.



Nope. I surely don't need Freud to help me interpret the dream I had a few months ago. Picture this: I'm in the hallowed halls of a high school (obvious interpretation clue #1). It's practically deserted, except for a guy at the end of a long hall. I walk a little closer to get a better look at his face. Sure enough, it's Crush Boy (obvious interpretation clue #2). And for what seems like an eternity, I'm screaming to him, "Hello. I'm right here. Why won't you acknowledge me? Why won't you acknowledge anything I've said in the last month?" (obvious interpretation clue #3).

Oh, how transparent have I become? As I look even closer at him, I can see he's furiously trying to figure out the combination to unlock a locker (obvious interpretation clue #4). Hmmm, what could that mean, I wonder? Oh, I don't know, that he's so desperately trying to unlock his emotions because, oh, maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have any???

And then, just like that, I woke up. I layed in bed for awhile thinking about that dream. Am I mad at him for basically failing to acknowledge my heart when I so vulnerably placed it at his feet? Or am I really mad at myself for just laying it all out there? You know what? I honestly don't think people should have to apologize for their feelings, however they come out, even it's not at the most opportune time. Sometimes, things just need to be said. Some things just get so bottled up that you have no choice but to set them free. But it doesn't help that the one person you think is going to at least let you down easy instead makes you feel bad for even saying anything in the first place.



So, Crush Boy, if you're reading this (and you probably are): It took a lot of courage for me to say things I've wanted to say for the last 14 years. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable, but I suppose I needed to be honest - with you and with myself. Too often we're afraid to say anything, so we end up saying nothing. Well, I said something...and the least you could do is acknowledge it. It's obvious by now that you don't share my feelings, but at least give me credit for doing something I thought I'd never do. At least have enough respect for me as a person to acknowledge my feelings. I'm not asking you to return them; I'm merely asking you to aceept them in the spirit with which they were given: out if genuine caring and bold honesty. Throw me a bone here!

xoxo,


[Photos via ffffound]

Breaking Up Isn't Hard To Do...Especially If You Were Never Together.

Editor's Note: So yeah, I know I posted this before, but I saw said person a few weeks ago and thought I needed to remind myself about everything that happened. For those who were fortunate enough not to have to sit through my tale of woe the first time around, read all about it here.

Dear You-Know-Who-You-Are:



Wow, I can't believe it. I really can't. So this is how it ends, how the curtains close on my little play? I have to say, I'm rather quite disappointed in all of this. It didn't have to go down like this. And yet, in some way, I suppose I’m not that surprised either.

Last week, I posted a serious question on Facebook (well, at least I thought it was a serious question):

WHY IS A WOMAN'S PHYSICAL DISABILITY SUCH A DEAL BREAKER FOR ANY POTENTIAL RELATIONSHIP?

I expected the usual answers: the fear of the unknown, the intimidation factor. And I did get those answers. I can fully understand those reasons, which why I started my blog – to at least begin the process of erasing some of those societal fears.

But what I didn’t expect was this reply I got from you.

I expected at least a bit of reassurance, but instead, I got this:

Dear friends, roissy.wordpress.com explains all. He cuts through polite society with a scimitar of analysis based on the animal instinct which guides human behavior.



Curious, I clicked over to this Roissy blog, and quite frankly, I’m sorry that I did. If there was ever a site so blatantly insulting, so obviously chauvinistic, this guy wins the prize.

I’m sure you’re probably thinking you somehow saved my life by alerting me to this Bible. How could I live without knowing that a cheating woman is worse than a cheating man? Or how could I live one more day without knowing that thin girls still win the dating race?

Now, I assume you reacted this way for one of two reasons:

1. You actually believe this smut.
2. You feel the need to insult me because of lingering resentment or uncomfortable feelings you still have since you discovered my feelings for you. A sort of cover-up, perhaps? A defense mechanism?

Or maybe it’s a combination of the two. Either way, the reason doesn’t really matter now anyway.

You also defend the site, saying that the author “is dead on in exposing the motivations of people. Beware of the reptilian brain and how it influences male behavior.” Well, sir, I’m sorry you haven’t evolved to a higher status than that of a reptile.



And when you say that his blog “cuts through the polite society”, this is really what you’re saying: This blog does a good job of marginalizing “your people,” maybe even putting them in the respective “place” in society?

Thank you for letting me know that I’m basically the runt of the women litter. Thank you for letting me know that my disability has basically given me an all-access pass, expiration-date NEVER to the world of Spinsterhood. Thank you, too, for letting me know that the motives of most men are to send those of us with any sort of disability back to the jungle to live out the rest of our days with our own kind. I bet this tactic works wonders with the other women in your life; Did Mr. Darwin teach you that dating trick?

Maybe you haven’t received the memo, but we humans have indeed evolved. I thought we were at least above living by the survival-of-the-fittest/looking-for-the-strongest-animal-with-which-to-mate mentality. I guess not all of us are that evolved after all.

What sort of person directs a woman – a woman who you know has struggled with coming to terms with her disability – to a site that idealizes everything she’s not? How cold and heartless do you have to be?

Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but – and I’m sorry for ripping off a line from a classic movie – no one puts me in a corner.

OK, so I know we never actually dated, but whether you knew it or not, you held a very large piece of my heart for a very long time. And you know what? I actually thought you'd be different. I thought you of all people would somehow be one step above the smut found on that blog. I used to think your textbook-speak in real life was the sexiest thing in the world. Now, it’s not so hot. It’s irritating. It’s annoying.

And this...

"I think thin is a cultural fad that has moved away from an aesthetic that was more in tune with the gestalt of female attractiveness intuitively understood in mid-20th century America."

Who, besides some 80-year-old expert on a History Channel special, talks like that?

You should know that consistently taking a scientific approach to people’s very real, very serious and very emotional (ooops, there’s that word emotional again….) feelings isn’t going to get you through life. Well, it might, but I promise it will be a very, very lonely life indeed.

I’m sorry you’re unable to be in tune with your emotions or, I don’t know, pick up on the emotional cues of others.



As it turns out, I was actually probably more in love with the fantasy and idea of you more than, well, you. I'd built you up in my head to be all these things, and I guess it's not really your fault you never really delivered on any of them.

For years, I wanted to get to know the real you, and I yearned for the days when you would know the real me. Well, now those ideals don’t look too appealing after all.

In the end, I suppose it’s your loss. Really. We could have been incredibly hot together, sparks flying everywhere, but now I guess we’ll never know, will we?

But I know I must look on the bright side. It’s good we discovered our differences now before we’re in the aisles of Bed, Bath and Beyond, picking out China patterns, when you announce: Oh, by the way, I believe in the sheer animalistic tendencies of humans. And I love that pattern on those plates.”



You were my first love and my first “break-up” letter. There’s something strangely poetic in that, don't you think?

I’m sorry if this is too honest for you. Maybe there’s a section on that blog that speaks about honest women. Oh, there’s not? Ooops. I’m sorry.

That’s really all that’s left to say. I just thought you should know that there is a subtext behind what people say, and that sometimes, it’s the words you don’t say that hurt the most.

xoxo,


P.S. Just so you know, the way to a girl's heart is not by telling her she's basically the runt. Maybe that little nugget of advice will help you in your next romantic endeavor - or should I say, your next scientific interaction with the opposite sex.

[Photo via We Heart It]

Love Commandments.

We all probably have a set of commandments in our head - a mental list of the things you want in love, in men, in a relationship. But there's a big difference between wanting them and thinking you deserve them. Of course we all want them, but all too often, for whatever reason (self-loathing, a poor father figure, whatever), we're not as quick to declare that, "YES, we deserve them too." I've been having that conversation with myself for as long as I can remember - probably even before I learned - and of course rejected (only some) - the actual Biblical commandments. So a few nights ago as I snuggled in bed, I came up with my own list of Love Commandments. I recite them aloud like this, though, obviously, not in a big, preacher baritone voice:



I DESERVE...

1. To be viewed as a woman first, and disabled second.

2. To be desired, and not viewed as a grotesque freak.

3. To be respected for my strength and independence, and not pitied for my (few) limitations.

4. To NEVER, EVER sacrifice who I am in the name of some guy.

5. To feel the thrill and rush of the first kiss.

6. To feel the safety of his arms and know things are exactly as they should be.

7. To have the hottest sex ever. Brain sex, that is. :)

8. To feel like he wants to know me - that he cares about my life, about what I have to say and finds me utterly fascinating that he'll be rendered speechless.

9. To get to know him so well that the words, words I may never have had the courage to say to anyone else, escape easily from my lips. And I wouldn't be afraid of the outcome, either.

10. To wake up every morning right next to him.

11. To blush and smile after saying "I love you" for the first time.

12. To love the reality more than the fantasy.

When was the last time you had that sort of inner dialogue with yourself? I think the time is now.

xoxo,

MEMO TO MEN: Class Is In Session.

MEMORANDUM
TO: Men all over the planet
FROM: A very rare person (Literally!)
RE: Facts on my disability
DATE: July 29, 2009



Because I know some men (and women, too) deal better with cold, hard facts, I thought I'd provide some information on my physical disability, Freeman-Sheldon Syndrome. We're small in numbers, but we're a powerful bunch, a force to be reckoned with.

Check out these facts to broaden your knowledge:

Ernest Freeman and Joseph Sheldon, two British physicians, first described this distinct disorder in 1938. The syndrome is characterized by skeletal malformations in the hands and feet and facial abnormalities. Freeman-Sheldon Syndrome (also known as "Whistling Face Syndrome") is a rare genetic condition which characteristically includes a small "whistling" mouth, a flat mask-like face, club feet, joint contractures usually involving the fingers and hands, and under-development of the cartilage of the nose. Intelligence is usually normal. Most of the features of this syndrome are due to muscle weakness.

Usually, FSS follows an autosomal dominant inheritance pattern. With this pattern of inheritance, the syndrome appears when a child inherits one defective gene from one parent. In some families, FSS follows an autosomal recessive inheritance pattern. In these cases, the condition only appears when a child receives the same defective gene from each parent. This syndrome can also occur sporadically, that is, neither parent passes on the gene responsible for FSS.

As of 2001, the gene responsible for FSS has not been located. Current genetic research is focusing on chromosome 11. Some experts consider FSS a form of distal arthrogryposis, which has been mapped to chromosome 11.

Freeman-Sheldon Syndrome is most recognizable by its facial features. The hallmark of the syndrome is the small mouth.

There are less than 100 reported cases.

Life expectancy for infants diagnosed with Freeman-Sheldon syndrome is normal.

See, we don't have the plague. It's not that hideous. Really. So next time you see me, GUYS, don't feel like you have to run furiously in the other direction. Or, hey, why not ask me about it? I'd love to talk to you....

xoxo,


P.S. I've also had my case featured in countless medical journals. Now tell me you don't find that hot!!!

[Photo via ffffound]

My Scars.

Here's the latest of, well, I'm not quite sure what. But I've been thinking a lot lately about the time when I show my physical scars to that guy for the first time. I know, it probably sounds all rather trvial, but I often wonder how the whole thing would play out. Would I have the courage to do it? Would he be repulsed and run?

I won't lie and say I'm not afraid
And maybe I won't even pretend to be brave
With you, it's so hard to run from my past
It's only a matter of time before I say the wrong thing
That little something that makes you want to leave
So as long as I've got you here, I'll ask...

If I showed you all my scars
Would you turn your cheek and look the other way?
If I let down my guard
Would you stay?
'Cause I've got flaws that are too easy to see
Could you ever see the real me?
I want to show you my scars and everything that I am
But really, I want none of it to matter in the end

Some people spend their whole lives searching
While I've spent my whole life running
In trying to find you, I lost myself
I built these walls all around, to keep me safe inside
But when you took my hand, it was so easy to realize
The only way in is out

If I showed you all my scars
Would you turn your cheek and look the other way?
If I let down my guard
Would you stay?
'Cause I've got flaws that are too easy to see
Could you ever see the real me?
I want to show you my scars and everything that I am
But really, I want none of it to matter in the end

I've never been this vulnerable before
As I sit here with your eyes on me
I don't want my scars to be the reason you someday walk away
So forgive me for trying to be sure...

If I showed you all my scars
Would you turn your cheek and look the other way?
If I let down my guard
Would you stay?
'Cause I've got flaws that are too easy to see
Could you ever see the real me?
I want to show you my scars and everything that I am
But really, I want none of it to matter in the end

I won't lie and say I'm not afraid
But things change, so maybe this time I'll be brave

xoxo,

Where's My "Love For Dummies" Book?

My curiosity got the better of me one morning, well, like it usually does. I found myself on one of my favorite Web sites, Amazon, and decided to type in love with a physical disability. Rarely have I even seen books on the issues people with physical disabilities face in finding love, finding someone who can look past the scars, the wheelchair and the stereotypes and fall in love with the person. But, then again, I hadn't looked for such a book in a few years, so I expected times to have changed. Perhaps Obama had decided to make the issue part of his Change We Can Believe In campaign.

Boy, was I wrong. The search returned books. They are all either about raising a child with a disability (don't get me wrong -- I'm glad there's books on that) or sexuality in people with disabilities. Heck, there's even a book out there on the history of physical disabilities in movies. Well, I thought, shouldn't we deal with real life first?



MY GOD! How sad is that? There are virtually no books that speak to MY life, to MY situation: the on-going struggle of bridging the ever-widening gap between my disability and its wrecking ball as an obstacle in my love life. Sheeesh. I couldn't possibly be the first person to struggle with these feelings, could I? Were others who shared my experiences simply too afraid to write about their struggles?

That couldn't be all the books, could it? I needed to expand my search, and nothing says expansion like my old friend Google. So once again, I Googled finding love with a physical disability.

These were the top 3 hits:

To love and be loved: sexuality and people with physical
To Love and Be Loved: Sexuality and People with Physical Disabilities (a link to another site)
Amazon.com: Raising A Child Who Has A Physical Disability



I'm not asking to find someone to shack up with here (read my Virgin Monologues for the deets on that)....I'm not that kind of girl, you know. I'd just like to find a book that at least doesn't make me feel alone. Where are all the guys who DO NOT have a problem with a woman's physical disability??? Have they all been captured and are being held hostage somewhere?

And if there are no books about it, does that mean I'm the problem here? Is there something inherently unattractive about me that has absolutely nothing to do with my disability. Am I using that as an excuse for why guys seemed so repulsed by me?

What do you think? Is it really me?

xoxo,


[Photos via ffffound]

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #25

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:

Hello, Darling (wow, that's the first time I've called you that; do you like it?). I'm sure by now I've mentioned how much the A&E original movie, The Brooke Ellison Story, resonated with me. The movie chronicles a girl who is hit by a bus at the age of 12 and becomes paralyzed from the neck down. She went on to graduate from Harvard; the movie could have been a poppy-fields, Pollyana look at her journey. Thankfully, it wasn't. It showed the real side of life with a disability in addition to all the triumps.

Take a look at this YouTube clip of the movie trailer. Brooke says what I think every single day at around the 56-second mark. It's true: not a day goes by that I don't either wake up with that thought or fall to sleep thinking about it. I'm not telling you this so you'll feel sorry for me and hand me a Kleenex. I'm telling you this because it's the truth. The real and honest truth. And I suppose, unless you walked in my shoes (no pun intended) for the past 27 years, you'd probably think it's a pretty superficial thing to be so concerned about. Just remember some things that are so trivial and come easy to some people are not-so-trivial things for other people.

But apparently, you are that man who'll love me. So...what's your secret? Until we meet...



xoxo,

MEMO TO MEN: Top 5 Truths About Me.

MEMORANDUM
TO: Men all over the planet
FROM: A woman who speaks the truth about herself
RE: 5 things about me....you probably don't know but should
DATE: July 28, 2009



5). I'm a virgin: No, it's not because I'm in some mind-numbing religious cult or sport a purity ring. And no, it's not because my disability makes the act impossible. It's simply a choice I've made for myself. On a side note, I've been avidly watching The Real World: Brooklyn and have fallen in love with Chett. Verdict: Males virgins are incredibly hot.

4).I'm shy: Really, I am. I know it doesn't seem like it on this blog, but in real life, I've known to be a rather silent butterfly sometimes. I've actually learned to spread my wings a little bit over the last few years, so don't worry, I'm not that painfully shy.

3). I'm feisty: I'm a redhead, so this should be an obvious one. Couple that with the fact that my disability has proven to make me extra feisty and I just might intimidate you...at first. I have a soft, gooey center, though.

2). I'm not one of those picky-eater girls: Gosh, I hate those girls. You know, the kind who pretend that they're a prime and proper eater for fear they'll turn off some guy. Sorry, boys. I love to eat and am not afraid to admit it. I once crawled all the way across the living room floor when I was a toddler just to eat a box of Thin Mints. My mother captured the proof (if I'm THAT determined over a box of mints, just think how I'll be if you make me fall in love with you):

1). I'm a cheap date: No, not in that way (see #5), but I really don't need big, swooping gestures (see #2): I'm an avid collector of PEZ dispensers. Any guy who gives me a PEZ dispenser to add to my collection has my heart (see pic of said collection below):

xoxo,

My Ugly Duckling Days.

“I'm so ugly,” I stammered in front of my oversized bathroom mirror one morning.

“Oh, honey, you're so cute,” said my mother, trying to reassure me. But her words brushed against my ears like the kiss of death, like telling someone they have a good personality - which she proceeded to do two minutes later when she found me still in the bathroom analyzing my features. The mirror, coupled with three high-watt light bulbs overhead, illuminated every tiny flaw. My downward slanting nose. My small mouth. My deformed hands and feet. And my electric wheelchair that seemed to eat me alive, taking center stage in the story of my life.

It was the day I learned to fear the mirror - the day I began my feud with myself.



I'd been envisioning my wedding day since I was 4. My flowing white gown. The paisley pink dresses for my bridesmaids. And a handsome man waiting to take me in his arms at the end of that long aisle, lined with dimly lit scented candles and rose petals.

Growing up, I always envied my younger sister, Janelle. She was the pretty one of the family - Swedish, flowing blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, straight and slender arms and legs and a body that was completely disability-free. Like a Greek goddess, she possessed an air of poise and perfection, and everyone commented on how beautiful she was.

They followed up their praise with compliments for me, but they always somehow fell flat - a hollow, empty cry into the dark, void night. I graciously accepted, forcing the beginning of a faint smile across my face, but I felt an arrow pierce the heart of my burgeoning young womanhood.

Like any young girl, I'd had my fair share of crushes. There was the blonde boy in my second-grade class who I used to daydream about on a daily basis, and my red cheeks matched the color of my hair any time he'd walk by.

There was the boy on my high school newspaper. We were co-editors, and I spent meetings thinking not about the upcoming story assignments or proofing a new layout, but studying intensely his piercing eyes, wavy brown hair I desperately wanted to tousle and the way his orange shirt brought out his smile.

And then there was Him. My first love. It started innocently when I was 13, when I referred to him as “a major babe” in my journal and then grew to deeper feelings of envisioning myself growing old with him. I found myself falling for him. Hard. I analyzed every chance meeting we had in my journal. What did his body language mean? What was he wearing? How long did we talk? What did he say? How did he say it?



But for some reason, I could never muster the courage to tell him - or any of these other crushes - how I felt, not because our differing personalities may have gotten in the way, but because I could feel my disability already had. And I was crushed.

“Why am I 20 and never had a boyfriend?” I wrote in my journal in 2001. “No boy has ever been interested in me. Am I deficient in some department? Do I turn guys off with my disability? I really want to experience true love, but I wonder if that could ever happen to someone as ugly and undesirable as me? I want guys to take me for who I am and look past my disability. Can't they find someone to love in this invalid body?

In my world, where all the twentysomethings around me could easily couple up, I stood somewhat on the outside, peering through the window of a life I desperately wanted but would never have. I even started to feel like an invisible ghost that no man could ever see “in that way.”

Maybe I was afraid to admit that I'd grown disgusted with my body, or maybe part of me just didn't want to think about it anymore, but from that moment, I shifted my focus to my mind. I excelled at all things academic, and by my junior year of college, I had a shelf of shiny accolades. A 3.9 GPA. A plaque for the Best Reporter on my college's newspaper. A certificate for being an outstanding women student. But I still felt alone. Empty.

I had a beautiful mind. But the little girl in me - the one who sat on her bed and dreamed so long ago of the flowing white dress - still wanted so desperately to feel pretty on the outside.



There's a large lagoon in the heart of NIU's campus. I must have walked around it hundreds of times, feeling the gnaw of nostalgia when I passed a group of preschoolers leaning into the water to feed bread crumbs to the squawking ducks. The ducks. I finally saw them for the first time one day. I stopped on the grassy banks for a moment to observe those winged birds flapping and fluttering in the shallow water. There was always one duck the flock seemed to leave behind as they paddled toward the majestic geese. The poor duck looked all alone and lost, like he was somehow desperately searching for his place in the world. I felt an instant connection with that lonely duck. We were both ugly ducklings in a sea of beautiful, graceful swans.

I'd spent so many years feeling ugly on the outside. When men never seemed to take an interest, I assumed it must be me. And my feeble attempts at focusing on my mind had merely been a way to avoid my body, something I'd come to view as an “ugly mess.”

For so long, I'd tried to run away from my disability. After all, my disability had become a wall that got in the way of everything. But it's not that men were uncomfortable with my disability. I was. And I had been afraid to admit it to myself.

All I wanted was for a man to look past my disability and see the real me - she was tucked in there just waiting to come out of her shell - but it had to start with me. The next time I looked in the mirror, I started to notice my wavy red hair, my freckles and my piercing green eyes. But what stood out most were my surgical scars, not as a hopeless reminder of my differences, but as a badge of honor. A symbol of all I've overcome - even a symbol of what makes me beautiful. My swan had finally blossomed.

xoxo,


[Photos via We Heart It]

Lyrical Gangster.

Remember how I said I wasn't a poet/songwriter/lyricist/? Well, I just noticed today that I've racked up 10 entries already in my Lyrical Gangster category. Wow! So I wanted to get your opinion.



About My Father
I Miss Me
Without You
The Perfect Fantasy
It's Okay
When You're Gone
Love, Unscripted
Say Hey
Who You Are
Her Eyes

Which one is your favorite? How awesome would it be to a songwriter? Hmmmmm....

xoxo,


[Photo via Oh, Mishka]

Lovely Quote of the Week.

I've been smiling a lot lately, and that's in large part due to you guys. You have a way of cheering me up, so THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for that. I love this quote from reader Spring:

Just know that if people don't want to date you because of a disability, they're not worth your time anyway. The wait may be annoyingly long, but the one you end up with will be so much more special and perfect because of it all.

I think this quote applies to everyone, not just those with disabilities, don't you?

xoxo,

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #24

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:



I'm sure by now we've talked at length about our past (I probably told you more than you wanted to know, but get used to it) - about our past love, crushes and romantic grand slams and grand failures. I'm sure we laughed about them, looking back in retreospect, but did I ever tell you my Top 10 Romantic Moments of All Time? OK, so being that I'm a dork (and you probably fell in love with my dorkiness within the first month of meeting me), these 'moments' were sort of one-sided. Alright, technically, the guy in each moment technically didn't know he was a part of it - sort of like a candid camera thing, I guess. But they were special to me, and I want you to know everything that's special to me, just as I want to know everything that's special to you. Isn't that what a relationship is founded upon -- finding out those little things about people that make them, well, them.

I hope you won't get jealous, and I promise I'll try not to get too jealous of your list. And, guess what? By the time we meet, I'm sure you'll be bumped up to #1, so you've got that to look forward to!!



1990: Spencer, as I've said before, was my first crush. First crushes are amazing, especially for my third-grade self who thought he was the most adorable boy in my elementary school. I recently found him on Facebook and he's still adorable - and SINGLE!!!

July 1995: Crush Boy. I still remember running right to my journal after his family left on the evening we met. I said how cute he was, and by my 15th birthday the next year, I was convinced he was my soulmate and that I was destined to spend the rest of my life with him. I spent the next 14 years trying to work up the courage to give voice to my feelings, but it took this blog to help me along. See...I AM better with words when I write them down and don't actually say things out loud.

1996: Brian Steinmetz was what you'd call my first Bad Boy. Oh, he was a really bad one too. He was constantly getting sent to the principal's office or slouching in his desk at the back of the room. He didn't seem to care about anything, and for some reason, I found that incredibly hot. Plus, he had that dangerous element to him that my pre-teen rebel - as much of a rebel as she could be - thought would bring wild and crazy to my boring, ho-hum existence.

Summer 1997: That summer, I fell in love with Jake, the lifeguard at the local pool. He smoked, worked as a nude model and sprawled on the lawn chairs everyday, the sun illuminating the tattoos on his Greek-like sculpted back. We flirted (or so I thought at the time), he smiled at me, and I was in love. My father didn't approve. I wonder whatever happened to him....Jake, are you out there??

Fall 1997: Matt Keyes. He was a senior in my sophomore English class. I didn't even care about that, really. What I really cared about what the fact that he had gorgeous sideburns and didn't give a damn that he might not graduate come spring. This guy had the IT factor. One day after he used my pen in class, I went home and marked it with White Out, so I'd always know THAT was the pen he touched. Thankfully, I don't have the pen anymore, but the memories will never fade.

Fall 1998: During my Junior year of high school, I found exactly what people meant when they talked about the brain being a sexy organ. Brown-Eyed Editor and I worked side-by-side as I fell in love with journalism - and him. He had Chandler Bing's wit and Ross Geller's intelligence, which just about made him the sexiest guy in school to me. I subtley flirted with him the whole year. It didn't work, apparently, because he got married last summer.

Spring 2000: Mike Rice was in my Senior English class. I dubbed him my Dawson's Creek boyfriend because he reminded me of Dawson Leery: smart, whimsical, funny, sensitive. A months ago, I found out he teaches high school nearby, so I emailed him. He's engaged - but still soooo cute. Darn.

Fall 2001: Paul Mikolajczyk (man, I can't believe I even remember how to spell his name). I was only 20 and editor of my college's newspaper. He was 25, an ex-Marine and the managing editor. Technically, I was his boss. I thought that was incredibly hot. I sat in the office every morning and nearly squealed out loud on the day he complimented me on my sweater. I recently found out he's engaged. Darn. Again. Why am I starting to see a pattern here?

Summer 2002: Steven Greenberg. I have a serious weakness for medical residents (you know -- docs in training), and when I found myself rushed to Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago because of an allergic reaction to medication, well, let's just say Steven put all my fears to rest. He was comforting, soothing and said I was his bravest patient. I was actually sad when I had to check out of the hospital, though I can still recall with crystal-clear clarity the morning he came to take my blood and ran his hand up and down my arm looking for a vein.

Spring 2005: LA Hot Shot, at first, was my Seth Cohen. We met on our college's newspaper, and he was the sort of guy who didn't take life too seriously and could always make you laugh. He was the first guy I didn't get completely flustered in front of and felt like I could be myself. Too bad he moved to LA and let the Hollywood sign swallow his head.

Fall 2007: Cute Guy Friend had been an acquaintance of mine since childhood. Our parents were friends, and after my dad died, he emailed me and we enjoyed getting to know each other as adults. He was cute, so when he asked me out for coffee, I happily accepted. Things were going great (could this actually be what could possibly pass as a date?) as we swapped stories out of post-college lives. Then he swapped this little tidbit of info, toward the end of "might-be" date: He had a girlfriend. Oh. OK. Darn. Yet. Again.

Fall 2008: I attended high school with Facebook Flirt, but surprisingly, our paths never crossed back then. When he wished me Happy Birthday on Facebook, obviously, I clicked on his profile and sort-of, maybe, just a little bit, sighed - and fell in love. He had moved to California, was a musician and had that intelligence that drove me wild. We began flirting back and forth, and in fact, we still are as of February 2009.



Hmm, I wonder....could you be one of the guys on this list? I guess only time will tell, but I'm looking forward to finding out.

xoxo,