It’s so hard

Now, due to the denylienating disease, I’m in a wheelchair. I can’t sit, I can’t stand…some days it’s a mind fuck. My legs switched off like a light.

My husband calls me extra…maybe I can be. I love to wear my tennis bracelet, my rope twist bracelets, my Catbird chokers, and my earrings, gagged up and pierced all down my lobes 🤷🏾‍♀️.

Extra?! Nahhh.

Fed TF up by this disease? Fuck yes.

Dressing is how I channel my independence. MS can’t, won’t take this. In my budget I have a lane dedicated to “Gaudy” 😆. I see my faults (piercings, ink) hear them when they start yelling, and tend to them 🤷🏾‍♀️.There is no other way. I take it as “this is 🥇Ashley’s fight to finding her new beginning.”

If you haven’t read “Consistency,” Jo IT. I’m annoyed with myself, my lackluster work appeal (mentally, physically) and needing to get it together with my damn prescriptions. it’s a fucking lot, so I need to get things in order immediately.

But when IT IS, because it damn sure does, my closet is salvation 😍. I’m currently in the season of monochromatics, bone, coca, Apricot orange for MS, Kyanite—yes Skims has a hold on me 🙄. 🖕🏾it’s the fabrics’ technology I swear.