My wonderful, flamboyant late father, loved gardening.

One of my favourite memories, is finding him, half way up an ancient apple tree, because despite being deaf, with impaired balance, he was totally fearless.

He was wearing: blue cut- off Levi hot pants, a t-shirt, flip flops, and a toothy golden grin, and his huge gold- loop earring, and matching front teeth glinted in the sun; all whilst balancing a cigarette at the side of his mouth, and a noisy chainsaw in his hands…!

“Wotcha love, do you wanna male yer ole man a sharps.”  He said – grinning at me from the branches.

He didn’t know what my home life was like; mother disallowed any of us discussing her machinations and, at the time, I still believed her conditioning.  He must have wondered though, why I was in such staid attire; she had punctured holes through my natural confidence, greatly…

It would not be until I was an adult that I showed off my limbs, aware that due to the cerebral palsy that my disabled side looks rather different to the other side. But unfortunately, some unkind people, called out a nasty comment- when my wrap round skirt, blew open one day.

So, for the most, even in the summer, thereafter- when I went out, – it’d be long skirts or floaty trousers…

But thankfully that all changed about three years ago, when my disability became more challenging. I started eating predominately healthy foods, and needed to keep slim to avoid surgery. I must exercise as much as possible to keep mobile.

It was a beautiful summer’s day, and I’m blessed to live by the sea on the South coast of England. But as I was walking along the promenade, I couldn’t understand why my right leg kept locking, and was more painful.

For as long as I can recall, the medics have tried to encourage me to point my affected foot forwards, but doing so accentuates the pain. In short, I couldn’t see my leg, which meant I couldn’t figure out how to adapt my walking, in line with my increasing pains… there was only one solution: I would start wearing shorts.

The next time I went to the promenade, I was sporting hot pants! In a pair of my daughter’s old ones: one layer of borrowed confidence. And the fact that dad loved them: another.

But boy did I cringe, the seafront was awash with tanned young beauties, and there was me: with pale mismatching legs. Luckily, I collected my thoughts and composed self. I was here to do a case study, and for the first time in my life: I watched how the right leg worked. After a while I could see the issue, the muscles are shorter and do not sit correctly around the bones. The medic had been wrong in trying to make me point the right foot forwards. Doing so causes my knee to deadlock.

There are many aspects to the disability, but at last, and only because I wore shorts: could I see how to customise how I would now need to walk: for minimum pain affect.

Since then, having plonked a fat kiss on my favourite photo of daddy: every summer day, irrespective of feeling self-conscious, I pop on a pair of hot pants.

I no longer care about what onlookers think. I’m too busy concentrating on my evolving method of walking. Besides, eating well, and exercising has increased my confidence. My late great friend, Stephen Colyer, said that fruit and vegetables are: “natures pharmacy,” and he was right. So many foods have medicinal properties: black pepper combined with turmeric have powerful sources of anti-inflammatory, and disease – fighting qualities. I have them both daily, and it helps…

Last month, I was negotiating a slight incline, on a new promenade, we’d just discovered, when somebody gentle touched my arm.

“Excuse me, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but have you had a stroke?”

“Sure, no actually, I’ve got cerebral palsy, but people always assume it’s a stroke.”

I’d said to the chirpy gentleman, and could see that his right-hand side is impaired too. Experience told me that he’d endured a stroke, and I made light of the matter, by saying: “look we match.”

Immediately, we started chatting, and Rob began telling me about his enduring physical plight. But he had such a sunny disposition, and as other people began walking towards us, he kindly introduced me, as being his parents, aunt, and uncle.

We all nattered happily for ages. Rob was keen to reiterate, that he’d not have come along so far in his rehabilitation, without such devoted family. His mum and aunt said kind stuff about me and my attitude. They and he bravely mentioned his dented confidence, he’s still a young, and nice-looking man. And I told him, that nobody would care about his weak side, and then I told him briefly why I was wearing hot pants.

I’d said that people only want a genuine heart and soul, and that besides: he has a handsome face.

“And I’ll tell you something else,” I’d said. “There are only two types of people in this world, we’re separated only by attitude. “And, my friend, you have a fantastic attitude, and that shines right through your lovely face, and why you’re easily going to be able to find a girlfriend.”

It was nice to see him smile.

I am blessed that the family have already been back in touch.

Whatever you may think of your body, is merely a story you, or unkind people have told you. It’s rubbish. Be happy, and wear whatever you like, and build your confidence: one gentle step at a time!

I hope you find this helpful. With SUNNY wishes, Emma x