hi, i’m jill
I’m a 30-something disabled content creator, body confidence advocate, and someone with a lot of opinions about how society treats disabled women.
As someone who used to hate my disabled body for simply existing, I wanted a way to push back against all of the ableist, misogynistic BS that taught me to feel that way in the first place.
On my blog, pretty bent things, and across social media, you’ll find me talking about life with a visible disability, body image, self-acceptance and all the messy parts of learning to love yourself in a world that keeps telling you not to.
if making friends as an adult is hard, try doing it disabled
We’ve all heard it before... that making friends as an adult is hard.
Well… try making friends as a disabled adult, right?
I’ve never found it particularly easy to make friends. And I’ve certainly never been part of any kind of “popular” group. But growing up, I guess circumstances just kind of handed me friendship by default.
I went to the same, small school for all 12 years, so it was kind of like I had a built-in friend group there.
In college, it was easy to be friends when we were partying a lot, pulling caffeine fuelled all-nighters, and bonding over the insanity that was film school.
I never exactly fit in, but I fit in just enough.
Adulthood, though? Whole different story.
what it’s really like living with cmt and why I used to be so ashamed of it
If I could sum it up in just a few words? I’m always tired.
Not like end of the day when you just want to go to bed tired. But like my muscles are going to give out any second tired. Or I can’t even find the strength to brush my teeth tired.
It’s also a lot of little things that the world never sees.
I can’t carry my tea from the coffee shop counter to my table without a lid.
I plan my walking route to make sure there is a place for me to sit down halfway.
I Google every new restaurant just to make sure there isn’t a sneaky step without a railing inside.
stop asking what’s wrong with me
You feel it coming before they even open their mouth.
A stranger spots you in the produce aisle.
They're doing that thing where they're pretending not to stare while absolutely staring.
Your spidey sense is tingling.
They move closer and you just hope they’re going to ask you what time it is, or if you know where the avocados are.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Annnnnd there it is.
That question.
