"yeah I just nonchalantly came across this vintage Panama...oh and these over the knee socks? Yeah they're just practical, they have nothing to do with giving me an air of Alexa Chung gauntness."
Prior to the pump I spent years hiding my thighs, or constantly having to assure myself that no one in the pool or at the beach gave a second look at my insulin-induced lumpy, bruised legs...and then worrying that meant no one would give me a second look. The pump changed that it said, 'here is my pancreas! It's not hidden, it's not a failing secret, it's a visible part of me. Deal.'
The pump changed that, it said: 'here is my pancreas! It's not hidden, it's not a failing secret, it's a visible part of me. Deal.'
The guys on the other hand looked like guys do, as if lifted from the lounges, pubs and clubs across the country, all nonchalant t-shirts and long shorts. So many pockets for so many insulin pumps, blood testers and glucose tablets.
I like that fashion allows me to express who I am. I also dislike that it is a relationship of being 'allowed', because that all too easily becomes a relationship where I am being defined by something other than myself. Dress must not define us, we define us. So my fellow PWDs wear what you like. Be proud of your scars. Embrace your pump, it's helping to keep us alive. And remember there is nothing cooler or more sexy than someone whose trying to be comfortable in their own skin.
4and8 blogs about Type One Diabetes and the continual plight to achieve sugar levels between 4 and 8