My friend Zoë’s been one of my support workers for over two years. We know each other really well and I feel happy and safe when I’m with her. I often affectionately call her ‘Zo-bags’ and earlier today this name took on a new meaning.
I was zooming along in my wheelchair with Zoë pushing when I suddenly ticced, throwing my head back so hard it hit Zoë in the chest.
My vocal tics responded to this immediately with:
“Zo-bags, they’re like airbags but Zoë’s tits.”
Now that my tics are aware of Zoë’s additional safety features, they seem to be getting a lot more use. Thankfully Zoë seems unfazed by either my head banging or my involuntary cries of “Activate the tit-bags!”
“Put a sparkly sash on Christmas.”