|Is that Matt or Cindy?|
Basically, we both don't mind taking our clothes off. Or in my case, having my clothes fall off.
I reached this conclusion at the wheelchair place yesterday as they were fixing up my manual chair (more on that later).
I transferred several times between chair and couch so the technicians could see what needed doing and then do it. On the last transfer to the manual chair, I felt my pants sliding. The guy who were helping me transfer said: Let me straighten you up here. But he straightened my pants that had gotten turned around.
I had to get back in the power chair for the ride home, which I knew was trouble. Sure enough, my jeans, which had a belt holding them up, slid halfway down my hips. The wheelchair guy said something like: Oh, you're losing your pants.
Was I supposed to be embarrassed? So you could see my boxers, big deal! They were black shorts with gold designs, for those who missed it.
I just laughed and said to the wheelchair guy, yeah, it's been a long day; I'm going home. Then I did leave.
At the doctor last week, I noticed my lack of embarrassment. The nurse got out a surgical gown and I thought she was going to help me undress. Then she said: Just take your shirt off and you can put this on.
I was like: For a shirt? Cindy and I don't mind being topless.
The wheelchair is much better. I used to feel like I had no back support so they put on a really comfy back. Now I feel like I am being spooned by my chair. (Not that I have ever been involved in a spoon situation, but I am extrapolating from my days clearing the dishwasher and putting away utensils.)