I was talking to someone at work the other day and the subject of my prosthetic leg came up. This person was not aware that I had a prosthetic leg even though they have known me for a couple of years. I mentioned that a lot of people that I deal with everyday don’t know I have a prosthetic leg unless I wear shorts around them, or unless I tell them. Of course those aren’t the only ways a person could find out about my leg. I would say there are hundreds of ways that people have found out about it, most of which involve it falling off at the most inappropriate times. I have mentioned before a few of the stories I have about my leg becoming detached and thought this might be a good time to tell you a little more about some of those stories.

When I was in school and more physically active than I am now I wore a neoprene sleeve to help keep my leg on. I learned early on that when kicking a ball (or any other object for that matter) that maybe I needed a little something extra to keep me all in one piece so to speak. I remember a couple of kick ball games in middle school that did not turn out so well. For the most part I can keep my leg on, but there are times when it just gets away from me. When I knew I would need it, like for high school football games, I would wear the sleeve. As a general rule though I didn’t wear it unless I knew I would need it.

Had I known my cousin and his friends were going to be riding a bucking barrel in the backyard when I went over there I obviously would have packed the sleeve. I don’t really think I need to tell you how that turned out. Fifteen years later, that story still gets told every time I am around those guys, and its still funny.

Being short and having a prosthetic leg is like a double whammy. When I used to work for a bank I hated the chairs that the tellers sat in because they were taller than a regular office chair and my feet didn’t reach the floor. Had I know that I would be sitting in one of those high chairs doing a server update with my boss and another coworker, I would have packed the sleeve. You can only fight gravity for so long, it always wins in the end. I think the funniest part of my leg falling off that time was that neither of them noticed even though they were sitting right next to me. Neither of them found out until later on when someone else mentioned it.

One time I was glad I wasn’t wearing the sleeve was on a trip to Sea World in San Antonio when I was a teenager. The sleeve did a really good job of holding my leg on, but it was a pain to put on and take off. I put it on the the top of my prosthetic and then rolled it down, put my prosthetic on and then rolled the sleeve up over my knee. It was a process because of how the top of my leg is made so it wasn’t easy to just take the leg off when I was wearing it. Me and my cousin climbed like 50 set of stairs to get to the top of the big water slide at Sea World only to be greeted by a big sign that says “no prosthetic limbs allowed”. This is the part where I would normally throw a big old fit and tell the people at the top of the stairs what the could do with their sign. However, there are times when it is easier (and funnier) to just go along. So standing at the top of the water slide with my cousin and my grandpa and the teenagers working the ride and the long line of kids waiting on us, I pop my leg off hand it my pop and tell him he better beat me to the bottom. For anyone curious enough, he did not beat me to the bottom! On that same trip we found out how fast you could make small children get out of a swimming pool. The great thing about my leg is that it floats. This has been a good thing on a couple of occasions. Me and my cousin were in the pool with a bunch of other kids and for some reason we told them I had a fake leg. None of them believed us until I took it off under the water and just let it float to the surface (which it does not do slowly by the way). By the time the kids stopped screaming and the adults started to come around asking what was going on, I already had the leg back on and was acting like nothing had happened. Good times!

 I mentioned this story before, but promised I would tell the whole story later. So here you go. Gravity does tend to give me fits at times, so there are times when its just convenient to let the leg do what it wants to do. I was at a friends house one time working on my truck. I don’t even remember what was wrong with it at the time, but I had crawled under it to look at something. I was wearing shorts and my leg kept sliding off while I was moving around under there so I just kicked it off and went on with what I was doing. I got done, and still under the truck I start feeling around trying to find my leg so I can slide it back on and stand up when I get out from under the truck. One of the worst feelings in the world is reaching around for your leg and it not being where you left it. Trust me on that one. So I slide out from under the truck and sit up, look around and there is no leg to be found. That’s when I look over and see the neighbors dog, who obviously lacked someone to play with standing there wagging his tail looking at me with my prosthetic leg laying right at his feet. Two things immediately run through your mind in this situation. The first is, wow my leg is really far away from me. The second is, that mutt is going to take off with my leg as soon as I move. I was correct on both counts. In most of the cases where my leg has been separated from my person the worst part is trying to figure out how to get said leg back. In some cases people think its funny to not give the leg back (all of those people know exactly how unfunny I think that is now), in some cases there is no one else around and you just hop to it. Then there are the times when a dog just wants to play. My dad raised dogs when I was little and I learned that you can say anything you want to a dog as long as you say it in a friendly tone the dog will resond. If you want a dog to come to you, you better be nice about it, because the wrong tone of voice will not get your leg back. I dont remember exacty what I was saying to the dog (I am sure it wasnt anything good though), but I can tell you this, thats the sweetest I have ever talked to anyone or anything. Even though there was no one around, I am sure there were people on that street that day watching through their windows laughing their heads off.

The more I write about stuff like this, the more I remember things like this that happened. These are just a few of the times I can think of off the top of my head, and some of my favorites. I will be adding more stories like these as I remember/have time.

I have been thinking about a tattoo for a while now. I have a couple already and had been thinking about getting a new one. For me tattoos are kind of a personal thing even though they are on a persons body for the whole world to see. The tattoos that I have all have very personal meaning and thoughts behind them so it goes without saying that I put a lot of thought into these new tattoos. I hadn’t planned on getting them when I did, and even though it was kind of a spur of the moment kind of thing I had put a lot of thought into them.

I have always been a visual type of person. I have always liked tattoos on other people, and have always been intrigued by tattoos in general. I like the way they look, but more than that I have always been interested in the people that get them and the reasons behind them. There are endless reasons why someone would want a tattoo and all of them are probably different from the next. For every person in this world that has a tattoo or piercing or anything else body modification related there is another person that doesn’t understand why someone would do something like that to their body. I think more than just the visual and artistic aspect of tattoos I have really been interested in the reasons behind why someone would want to change their body in such a way. I am not even going to get into individuality versus conforming to the standards of whatever society you belong to. I personally feel like everyone has a little of both going on. People want to be different, but on the same hand people want to fit in. Either way, it takes a lot of courage to be an individual sometimes. When it comes to tattoos a lot of people see a tattoo and think that person is just trying to fit in. Different people have different motivations behind tattoos, and while I am sure there are people that just get tattoos to fit in believe it or not, not everyone that gets a tattoo is just trying to fit in. I have always admired the people that get tattoos despite what society thinks or says about them. It takes a lot of something (you can decide what you think it takes) for a person to step outside of the cookie cutter mold that we try to put people in. People that go to extremes like full body tattoos, or facial tattoos, or large gauged ears, or implants (not of the breast variety), or scarification or whatever else obviously put a lot of thought into their decision to change their body in such a way knowing that most of society is not going to be accepting of their choice. I personally think it takes a lot of courage to make the decision to be that different. On the other side of the fence from people that try to make themselves appear physically different from the rest of the world are people like me, people that were born looking very different physically than the majority of people. While I do think that a big majority of people (from my personal experience anyway) are accepting of both cases, there is always going to be people that don’t understand or accept people that or different, whether it be by choice or not. Unfortunately no amount of blogging or anything else is going to change they way those people view the world around them including the things and people that are different. I don’t understand people like that, and probably never will, but its not for me to understand. The only thing I can do is be me and let everyone else be whoever they are.

 There is a website that I frequent that deals with body modification. The site is not for everyone and is definitely not for the close minded. It is a community site dedicated to body modifications. One of the slogans that the website uses is “I never wanted to be different I just wanted to be me”. I have been a viewer of this site for several years, and while I don’t necessarily agree with everything or everyone on the site, from strictly a body acceptance point of view, I have always related to that slogan. I admire the people that willingly change their bodies and make the conscious decisions to be themselves and not worry about what everyone else thinks about them. No matter how negatively society may view them, they are proud of their bodies and accept each others differences without question. I can’t help but relate to people like that on some level, even though their choosing to be different and I didn’t have a choice.

 That slogan has kind of stuck with me every since I first visited the site a few years ago. I never wanted to be different, I just wanted to be me. Above everything else, forget fitting in or conforming, I just want to be me. I don’t want society to be able to dictate who I need to be. I want to be me, and if society isn’t cool with that its there problem not mine. People always like to point out that tattoos are permanent and that’s one of the things I love about them. They don’t change, they don’t waver. When you make the choice to put ink to skin, that’s how it’s going to be. I love the tattoos that I have because they are permanent reminders. They are always there to remind me of what I was thinking about or going through at the time I chose to get them. Not that I need to be reminded to be myself, but if I ever do doubt or question who I need to be, all I have to do is look down and it’s right there. I have wanted to get a tattoo related to that slogan for a while now, its something I have thought about for a couple of years. I wanted something to remind myself to just be me. I also wanted the tattoos in a visible place as a reminder to society that they don’t get to tell me what I can or can not do, or who I can or can not be. Whether it be because of some genetic anomaly, or my own choice to alter my body, I am different. I am unique. I am me. I chose to embrace my differences and not bow to what society says is normal. For some strange reason society, and particularly mainstream media, thinks they should be able to decide what people should act like or dress like or look like and I personally refuse to accept that. I just want to be me!

Most everyone I know has seen them, and the reactions have been pretty varied. I have had friends say they were the perfect tattoos for me, and then I have had people say they just don’t get them. The tattoos are kind of like me, you either get me, or you don’t. I think they are pretty simple, and pretty self explanatory. I think maybe people read too much into things sometimes. For the most part, everyone I know has been positive about my decision to get them, even if they don’t understand or approve. Whether or not people understand or accept me,  all I ever really wanted was to be me!

Against my better judgement, I am going to start hitting the publish button on a few of the post that I have been “revising” for some time. Since a few people have called me out on it lately. I know if I wait until I think things are perfect I will never let anyone see them, but its still not easy putting stuff out there that is really personal. Oh well, life is too short make sure things are perfect, so I am going to try to do less revising in the future and just put it all out there. Whats the worst that could happen?

Did you hear the one about the guy with no thumbprints? Reading failblog today and saw this one about a guy that couldn’t cash a check because he had prosthetic hands and thus no thumbprints. The fact that they wouldn’t go ahead and cash a check for the guy is extremely lame, and really just makes them look bad. It does make for humorous internet content though so the situation isn’t all bad.

Not to make light of this guys situation, because I know it can be frustrating not being able to provide thumbprints. I imagine it would especially frustrating when you are trying to get money out of the bank, because banks can be frustrating enough as it is. As a person that used to work for one, I know all to well how frustrating they can be. No offense meant to any of my friends that still work at a bank, you know what I am saying. Back to the thumbprint thing though, it can be frustrating. It can also be humorous. In the last year or two I have had to have finger prints taken a couple of times (all for perfectly legal reasons) and each time it was an experience for everyone involved. The lady at the DMV wasn’t really sure what to do. She asked me which finger was my thumb, and apparently “take your pick” was not the answer she was expecting from me. I just politely reminded her that she was supposed to be the one that new what she was doing and I really didn’t care which one she called my thumb. I personally thought there was no right or wrong answer to the question, and even of there were a right or wrong answer I only have the two so you have a 50/50 chance at getting it right. She still didn’t want to venture a guess so I just went with the one on the inside since we both agreed that’s where here thumbs resided. The guy at the sheriffs office that took my fingerprints had more of a sense of humor than the DMV lady, and had obviously finger printed people with missing digits before. He knew which one to classify as my thumb, but the finger print card has 5 spots, one for each finger and they are labeled, and we decided after the thumb we would call the other one my ring finger. Forgive me for getting off on a rabbit trail here for a second, and I know I have already told you to be patient, but talking about ring fingers reminded me of another story altogether…remind me to tell you that one later. Not that I have ever worn a ring on either finger on any kind of a regular basis, we still decided that would be my ring finger and he marked amputee on the three remaining spots. In both cases, I tried to make the situation a little easier on the people having to finger print me, because I can only imagine that it might be a little awkward for them. I know it was for DMV lady. Sadly my attempt at humor did not make it easier on her. She still seemed like she would have rather been anywhere else but there. Oh well, not everyone appreciates that I save them work by not having to print all those extra fingers!

So a few of you have mentioned that I have a couple of stories I need to finish. I know on a couple of occasions I have said I would tell you more about things when I had more time to get into them a little more. The truth is, I have already written most of the stuff and its just waiting on me to push that publish button. The only problem with that is I over think things and I tend to rewrite stuff to death before I put it out there for you to read. Especially when it comes to the more personal stuff I have written. I am going to take the next couple of days to go over them one more time and next week I will tie up some loose ends. Patience young grasshoppa!

Reclusive by nature, he became a public story about six months ago when he moved from Oregon to Madera, Calif., explaining that he wanted to live in a place where people were more accepting of his unusual condition.

There was a video of  the blue guy today on MSN, I remembered seeing this guy before but couldn’t remember what caused his skin to turn blue. So I googled him real quick and found the article on MSNBC about him. I read through it and one paragraph really stood out to me. This gentleman used silver as a remedy for various ailments and it turned his skin blue. I know facial tattoos are not really mainstream as of yet, but its not uncommon to see someone with facial tattoos like Kat Von D or someone like The Lizard Man with full facial tattoos just by flipping on the TV. So why would the site of someone with blue skin seem so odd? Now don’t take this personally, because the people I know that are from Oregon are pretty open minded, but what are the rest of the folks like in Oregon that this guy had to move to California to be more accepted? I think that is a pretty sad statement. What do you think?