The debate about Britain's Missing Top model continues to rage even after the winner was announced as Kelly Knox. The main issues getting people wound up seem to be the type of disability and confusion over whether the winner should be a role model and spokesperson or model first and foremost.
My experience of modelling was actually directly related to becoming disabled. After I returned from the USA nursing the first of many failed shoulder surgeries and years before I would be diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome I found myself in the position of being unable to work full time but desperate not to claim benefits and so add to my then status as lazy malingerer. I worked a variety of part time jobs over the years but all were incredibly poorly paid and when people suggested I work as a glamour model to earn some extra cash I eventually decided there was no reason why I shouldn't.
It was also years before I recognised myself as having a disability which leads me to wonder whether some of the problems relating to the acceptance of disability in the modelling industry have more to do with the label than anything else. As I didn't recognise myself as disabled I never used the label when talking to photographers but I did always explain not only the problems I had with my shoulder but that I tired easily and was in constant pain. It wasn't an issue for any photographer I worked with, but I suspect most of them would have shied away had I declared myself as 'disabled' despite there being no difference in the issues created.
I didn't think of it as needing adaptations, there were just positions I could hold, and those I couldn't. It was always something worked around by myself and the photographer, my yet to be labelled hypermobility compensating by providing an ability to move into more poses than it prevented.
Glamour modelling was never a career for me, in my mid 20's by the time I started it was simply an easy way on occasion of earning a bit of extra cash for myself that fitted in with the random nature of NHS appointments. The experience of learning to ask for and accept assistance for personal care meant I rapidly lost any self consciousness I might once have had about my body after years of being bullied for my appearance and gave me the confidence I needed to model nude.
In a surprise decision Kelly Knox won. The judges seemed more confused than ever as to what the competition was about, but as they placed so much importance on the winner being a role model I feel they made the wrong decision. Kelly Knox may be the better photographic model, but Sophie was right, she just isn't passionate enough about changing the way people view disability.
However if this is anything like Pop x-wannabe it'll be Sophie we all remember not Kelly.
After my initial freak out over the maggots earlier today (dislocated/broken joints don't faze me, but show me an insect and I'll dislocate anything/everything in my desire to flee!) I calmed down, sprayed inside the bin with Raid and phoned the council. Well, phoned the council and then left the phone on speaker phone for 15 minutes while I waited for a human.
The mention of maggots was clearly nothing new to the poor bin lady, but I managed to sort out a new wheelie bin to be delivered within 5 working days as not only were the maggots inside but a whole variety of life forms were breeding in the permanent puddle on the caved in lid. The council offer a service to assist certain groups of people with their bins, they will come and collect from the house rather than the street if you are deemed unable to move the bin yourself.
Sounds great doesn't it? I, probably very naively assumed that I would just have to let the council know my problems, and then perhaps send a copy of my DLA (disability living allowance) award to 'prove' to the council that I have a certain level of disability. Or perhaps that they could check their own records, as there is still a disabled register, although I'm personally not on it. All of course far too simple and straightforward for a country currently drowning under the weight of bureaucracy. Instead the council send out a form, which the individual fills in explaining why they need this assistance, whether that be because they are disabled, elderly, currently convalescing (a term I've not heard used elsewhere for many years) or injured temporarily. After the form is received by the council they then send out an inspector (yes really!) who judges whether or not the individual is entitled to bin help.
Think of all that money they can save by such a drawn out process! Relying on people to die or recover before getting assistance must save oooh, almost as much as a salary for a full time Bin Nazi. No wonder council tax is so high, the council are working hard on their priorities of removing help to the vulnerable by spending the money on needless inspectors.
It should beggar belief, but sadly it doesn't. This kind of shameful waste is repeated endlessly across the entire public sector. The real maggots aren't in my bin, they're far too busy being busy working for the government.
Ugh. Which so does not cover the overwhelming desire I currently have to vomit. Ugh. And a bit more. I had suspected that the ridiculous amount of flies entering the house this year was to do with the wheelie bins, but having just been to put something in the wheelie bin and found it swarming with maggots I'm now prepared to put money on it.
Fortnightly collections during this weather are insane, in 2006 when the weather was consistently much hotter than now there weren't these problems.
Does anyone know how to deal with this problem once the bins have been emptied? Particularly how a mobility impaired person can deal with it?
Excuse me, I'm off to be sick now whilst the local children play with the bins.
I've just discovered a very new and very promising blog called How Can You Take It Easy When You're Already Taking It Easy, written by someone with a traumatic brain injury and I suspect a far worse experience of the benefits system than I.
Read it and weep.
