My Body Isn’t Made for Sex Anymore

Sex & disability, an exercise in frustration

Illustration by Randi Pace

My body doesn’t feel like it’s made for sex anymore. The body I had when I first met my husband, the body that lifted 50-pound bags of flour and kept up with the men in the kitchen, running a station solo during the busiest of Friday nights, has morphed into a body that can’t quite keep itself knit together. The body that allowed…