I’m Jenn: a 20-something wife and writer with more college debt than bylines. My sarcasm cup overfloweth with inappropriate wheelchair jokes.
If you asked me what I’m all about, I’d simply tell you that I rock harder than I roll.
My metal-head husband (Ben) and I tied the knot in August ’09. It’s not always rainbows and unicorn farts around here. Truth is, we fight it out, work it out, and stick it out . . . and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’m physically disabled and haul my ass around in an electric wheelchair, thanks to Limb-Girdle Muscular Dystrophy. It’s a progressive disease, where the muscles in my arms, legs (Limbs), and hips (Girdle) are slowly deteriorating. If that wasn’t fun enough, I’m also a type 2 diabetic and recently diagnosed with poly cystic ovarian syndrome (pcos).
All of the above issues has made trying to have (non-crippled) babies a real adventure. Although it’s been a long process, we’re finally getting close to the end goal of a BFP (or for those of you not up on your conception/infertility lingo, that’s code for a “big fat pregnancy”, aka a positive pregnancy test).
I like giving strange nicknames to my loved ones and talking to strangers in the grocery store, even if Ben thinks it’s creepy. I’m generally irritated when people don’t smile back.
I love penguins more than any sane person should (the animal, not the hockey team. Ben is a die-hard Flyers fan). I humor Ben’ sports obsession by
ignoring him and tweeting rooting for “my” teams, which I pick based solely on jersey colors and animal-based sponsors.
My house is usually covered in dirty dishes and fur, but when you walk in the door you’re immediately bombarded by kisses from the welcoming committee (aka my three dogs) and invited to stay for dinner.
I always thought that was a good trade off, don’t you?