(And now I'll share what I said to myself)
The first-cuppa-coffee chat started rolling, because just the evening before,![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spiralsheep sent me this link to a BBC story about a pterosaur fossil fragment that turns out to be from the largest toothed pterosaur ever (yet discovered): http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/15150591
And that reminded me of a podcast I listened to this past summer about pterosaurs and their mobility in the air and on the ground (here: To Err is Human. To Rawr is Dinosaur) where the visiting experts point out that the only way a human could get even close to walking like a pterosaur is to use crutches.
And as I was toodling around the next morning, I glimpsed my crutches propped up in the corner, and was instantly tickled by the thought that, within my circle of friends, I alone could pull off the most accurate pterosaur costume, and make it look the least cheesy.
And that triggered the perennial self-debate about why should crutches or wheelchair be even a consideration in deciding on a costume? Why can't you just dress up as a character that happens to use a wheelchair or crutches?
And this is the answer I told myself:
It's not so much an issue with crutches. But a wheelchair user is surrounded on three sides by a cookie-cutter machine (especially if it's motorized). So the only clear view anyone would have of your costume is face-to-face. And how often does that view come up when you're at a party (or convention, or out trick-or-treating)?
If you're going to put an effort into making a costume in the first place, you want to be noticed and appreciated from all sides. And that means covering your chair. Not out of shame, but using what you've got: a rigid scaffolding with a motor and wheels -- in short: turning yourself into a one-person parade float. :-D
( Here are some ideas I've come up with in the past, but have never gotten around to doing: )
The first-cuppa-coffee chat started rolling, because just the evening before,
spiralsheep sent me this link to a BBC story about a pterosaur fossil fragment that turns out to be from the largest toothed pterosaur ever (yet discovered): http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/15150591And that reminded me of a podcast I listened to this past summer about pterosaurs and their mobility in the air and on the ground (here: To Err is Human. To Rawr is Dinosaur) where the visiting experts point out that the only way a human could get even close to walking like a pterosaur is to use crutches.
And as I was toodling around the next morning, I glimpsed my crutches propped up in the corner, and was instantly tickled by the thought that, within my circle of friends, I alone could pull off the most accurate pterosaur costume, and make it look the least cheesy.
And that triggered the perennial self-debate about why should crutches or wheelchair be even a consideration in deciding on a costume? Why can't you just dress up as a character that happens to use a wheelchair or crutches?
And this is the answer I told myself:
It's not so much an issue with crutches. But a wheelchair user is surrounded on three sides by a cookie-cutter machine (especially if it's motorized). So the only clear view anyone would have of your costume is face-to-face. And how often does that view come up when you're at a party (or convention, or out trick-or-treating)?
If you're going to put an effort into making a costume in the first place, you want to be noticed and appreciated from all sides. And that means covering your chair. Not out of shame, but using what you've got: a rigid scaffolding with a motor and wheels -- in short: turning yourself into a one-person parade float. :-D
( Here are some ideas I've come up with in the past, but have never gotten around to doing: )
