I’m just going to straight up say it: If you leave a note you’re a little bitch.
You heard me.
You think I’m abusing the law? You think I’m lazy? Come say it to my face, bitch.
Getting this on the windshield of our car after parking handicap and heading to dinner left me feeling a little cold. Guess I didn’t look disabled enough today. Too much foundation? Not enough open wounds?
But I get it. This isn’t my first rodeo after all.
I mean having the port now is at least one good weapon in the fight against morons. I can just whip open my jacket and be like ‘BAM, BITCH! That “handicapped” enough for you?”
But generally I don’t do that. Because really, they’re right. I don’t look handicapped. You would never guess that one hot walk across a parking lot in the middle of a Florida summer would inevitably render me useless for the rest of the day, dehydrated and drained.
And they wouldn’t understand that every last ounce of energy I have has to be put towards things like standing up to wash my hair or getting all the way to the dairy aisle after a draining infusion.
Handicap privileges aren’t just for the wheelchair bound and the over 80 crowd. Here’s a good example of things you can’t visibly see that might render a person handicapped: Cancer, lupus, chemo, POTS, EDS, rheumatoid arthritis, chronic pain, chronic fatigue, chronic bronchitis, immune deficiencies…
And hey, even if they don’t need it for the impairment of mobility, patients use it all the time for irritable bowel diseases like Crohn’s so they can get to a bathroom immediately. Or do you feel it’s politically more correct to let people just shit in their pants? Does the all-knowing, all-seeing, note-leaving authority on handicap spaces even take that kind of situation into account?
This note had one thing right: there are certainly people who are, in a sense, “more disabled” then me. I do understand that, and on days when I’m feeling pretty good and I’m not faint or about to black out I don’t park handicap. But unless you live with me, and know me intimately, you would never know I was in excruciating pain.
Here are some examples of me looking incredibly healthy while actually crying internally for the day to be over so I can go home and pass out:
(Working on a shoot for Today’s Teen while struggling with a GP flare)
Hadn’t eaten solid food in a week during a book signing ceremony.
At a friend’s baby shower that I was really excited for, with a pulsing migraine
Out of the hospital after a week to go to dinner for my mom’s birthday
So the next time you feel entitled to try to tear someone down for something which you know absolutely nothing about? Restrain yourself.
I may be handicapped but I can still make you piss your pants like the little bitch you are.