Friday, June 8, 2012

Meddle with Metal

So, I'm walking to Taralucci to pick up a cup of the most heavenly ground coffee beans and water when I notice the eyes of strangers starting to dart from my leg to my face to my leg to anything-else-omg-i-think-she-saw-me-looking-at-her. It's quite unbelievable how people try to pretend they weren't checking out my gold leg. Guess what. I saw you. Your dead pan stare at your phone is an obvious cover. The jig is up.
Can I tell you a secret? Guess what I do when I see someone with a missing limb walk down the street? My eyes open wide and I stare like they just walked out of an abusive tanning bed. I stare at them and think, Holy shit, what happened to that guy? His leg looks soooo different. I mean, my leg doesn't look like that. I wonder who his prosthetist is? Ohhh... I hope it wasn't a lawn mower.
I'm not going to try to speak for all amputees but if you ever see me on the street, for Pete's sake, save yourself the burning curiosity and just ask me whatever question suits your fancy. I'm kind of an expert on the subject, "One leg: How'd you get it and what's it like?" Asking difficult or seemingly embarrassing questions is the only way to gain knowledge into the unknown. It's charming how people try to be so polite and avert their eyes to my leg like they're trying to protect me from some awful truth. JIMINY CRICKET, I HAVE ONE LEG-I know I do.
I have never been offended by people who avert their eyes because I understand that it usually comes from a place of kindness and I have never been offended by people who ask me about what happened because it's about the truth. I will tell you that I learn a lot about a person in a little bit of time by how they interact with a robot leg. How do you react when you see a different body?

Gold Mettle


Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Marriage Mettle

I hate weddings. I think weddings are this sort of emotional torture device used to force large crowds into tears with minimal effort.
It's a glorious Saturday morning and I walk into this church that makes me feel like I'm six years old and my mom is about to tell me to not touch things. My body immediately begins to condense and tighten. As I'm standing a little taller in my Bahama blue flow-y dress, a seersucker suited gentlemen offers his invincible arm. I am ushered to my wooden pew. The organ starts to play and the murmur of chatter drifts into the music as the wedding party meanders down the aisle with secretive smiles because they've already seen the hidden bride. The squirming starts as I try to stifle these 'feelings' that are welling up my innards. If the tender strength of a brother's and sisters' smiles walking before their oh-so-grown-up sister didn't pull at my heart strings then the little BABIES start rolling down the aisle like cuddly bowling balls hitting the gutter rails. The whole crowd gently giggles until someone finally catches them at the end and every breath in the room tightens because the worst is coming. The bride starts to walk down the aisle and the fairy tales are true; she is so beautiful. A sweet humbleness fills the room and I'm broken to an honest place as "I love you" is promised with "I do."


I am such a sucker for weddings. It. is. so. embarrassing.

Gold Mettle

Location:New Orleans, LA