But that's the point, Retro you could have.
Me, I don't have that choice. I have very few choices and every day people like you remove further choices. You see, a lot of bus drivers haven't yet got the message that my choices do in fact override yours, so they will ask a mum to fold and she will look at me, and my mates and think to herself no, my baby is more precious. Well, to her, yes, her baby/babies are more precious, but the will grow up and have oh so many choices. They will be able, at some point to choose when to get up in the morning, when to go downstairs, when to go shopping. When I was little we'd go out and get to the supermarket but not be able to get me out, this would occur on a fairly regular basis. I was convinced for a long time that people didn't like me and didn't want to see me. To some extent that's true. The mum on the bus doesn't want to acknowledge my existence, it nudges something in her subconscious, a little fleeting, god that could be my kid, followed instantly, but fleetingly with a touch of guilt for thinking it. Seeing me there reminds you of the fragility of existence and frightens you. Well I get frightened too, I get frightened when you won't fold because the cold could kill me. I get frightenend when people don't fold because I'm frequently called upon by complete strangers to justify my very existence. Why should I get on the bus, haven't I got a fucking mobility car? And then, as I've said before I have to deal with the bullies. Those that won't let it go Retro, that by posting continually on threads like this about how right they are, and how awful those disabled militant frothers are, come into my home, and bully me.
I remain unimpressed Retro. Unimpressed.
Dawndonna's dd.