Someone held me up at gunpoint last night. I’ll never forget the smell of his cologne or the brick butterflies banging around in my belly swiftly moving my partially digested spam Masubi to my colon.
We’ve come a few teeny steps forward on the stigma-front (to all the SW activists, thank you friends you’re so brave and so excellent, I wish I was brave too but I’m so fucking tired) but it feels like the only SWers that some of society is willing to accept are a niche bunch: ritch bitches.
I love physical activities and things that get my blood pumping, rock climbing, going dancing, etc but I also love the simple things like dinner and a movie at home. I love anything that makes me feel good.
Whether you smell good. Whether you’re freshly shaved. Whether you’ve bothered to put on a clean shirt. When you make an effort, your worker knows you’re investing more than just money into the encounter - that you see the meeting as a special occasion.
It’s not all about wheelchairs - chronic pain, neurodiversity, and mental health are all relevant too, and learning to talk with clients about what they need and how they experience pleasure is essential.
Read more... A Switter user made and posted this sometime in 2018.