That said, from the little you’ve said, it’s more about a sexual fetish for you than about feeling like you are in the wrong body. That means it’s unlikely to be BIID. Keep in mind that BIID is not (yet) actually defined anywhere and that I am not a doctor anyway.

I remember sitting in a girls manual wheelchair when I was about 10 (25 now) for some reason. I also remember finding a crutch somewhere at some point and there was definitely a pair at some point which I “used” to the shop

I also remember wanting to buy a pair of crutches. I was still living at home and quite young I think.

And I definately thought about buying a proper sports wheelchair over the past so many years.

My “problem” is sexual in some way though: I can remember sitting in a wheelchair and getting a rock hard erection not too many years ago, but with women in general I have problems in that department….

Wow that was quite a lot I think, what do you guys think???

Sean & Claire: Yes, this webiste has actually made a difference. God Bless.

All those devo asian movies show it.

It is as dangerous as the lifestyle adds on American television for prescription medication. I wonder how many people decide they have a certain condition so they can live out the fantasy in the commercial.

I have a very good memory, although some things are fading. If I had some childhood experience that was the cause of this, I would be the first one to admit it.

I do remember at 3 or 4 years of age asking my mother about it, I do not remember her exact reaction, but I do recall it included the usual ridicule when I mentioned something thought to be innapropriate. And, no I do not want to, nor have I taken revenge on my mother.

I had exposure and I didn’t at the same time. I definitely don’t think that my BIID stems from having been exposed to people with disabilities as a young child. I don’t know the origin of BIID. It might be psychological/learned. It might be neurological. More likely it’s psychoneurological.

But does it really matter *where* it comes from, or *what* it is? The thing is, either way we look at it, the only thing that has shown to help is for people to become disabled.

I remember comments that my parents made about my neighbourhood friend with spina bifida. They said she should have been euthanised at birth. I wanted to be like her. Those comments made me cringe beyond description. It made me feel that my parents would want me dead too if they knew who I really was.

They would always get this certain, slack jawed idiot look on there face, and sometimes giggle when telling the story. It thought this was some sort of proper, grown up mature adult reaction to the situation. In retrospect, they were just uneducated, country people who let their stupidity show. I think they were very inclined to laugh and make fun of people with disabilities, but knew they should not. Sort of some fiendish pleasure. Perhaps they saw this as a consequence of aging, perhaps what waited for them after their next birthday. Somehow, this made the topic in my mind very taboo, or only something that could be properly comprehended by an adult. This was of course how a young kid responded. Maybe they too had some sort of fascination or perhaps curiosity there mores prevented them from learning about.

Not exactly a good environment for a kid who knew something was different since none of the other kids seemed to be interested in what I was pre-occupied with. Guess I missed out on lots of playing cowboys and Indians.

That’s about it really.

There were three individuals I remember as a toddler in the area in which we lived. All were wc. users, one was described as a “girl” who was injured in an accident, could not walk and lived with her father. I remember the house had what appeared to be an elaborate ramp. The “girl’ was actually an adult. She drove her own car, and had a job. I never saw her in her wc nor did I see her face. The second was an older man who used his wc as a walker, and I was told he had some rare disease that only a few people in the world had. Another was a lady who lived with her husband and kids on a second foor walk up, whom I was told was also a wc user.

I have never desired to be a wc user, nor do I recall wondering what it would be like not to be able to walk “no matter how hard I tried”.

I was already then fascinated with people on crutches, but the only ones seemed to have leg casts.

Once two painter painted our house, one was a high above elbow arm amputee, and he used his stump to carry his ladder. I wondered if the arm amputation was a prerequisite to becoming a painter for that purpose. His partner did not have a ladder. I wondered if his partner needed to help him wash his hand. I made the decision then NOT to become a painter. I still can not fathom do this day wanting to loose an arm, nor wanting to have a disability that necessitated a wheelchair.

In the same period of time, I saw my first leg amputee. It was a tall man, high AK amputation getting off the bus and walking down the street on crutches. He was tall, wore a suite, and walked very purposely and quickly down the street. I remember him gettig off the bus about the time people would be coming home from work, I deduced he must have been local, but I only saw him twice, and there was never any mention of him. There seemed to be plenty of chatter about the three wc users.

Once I saw this leg amputee, I knew that was it. Up to this point, I do remember wanting to have a broken leg mainly so I would have a reason to be on crutches. Most of my pre teen years centered around the cast fantasy, then the leg amputation idea popped back into my head and never left. I may have been thinking it was somehow easier to get the cast rather than loose the leg.