Friday, 20 February 2015

Amputee Models At NewYork Fashion Week...

Hunky Jack Eyers, who had a leg removed aged just 16, wows crowds as he struts down the catwalk in the Big Apple

Smooth, strong and shredded, Jack Eyers has the kind of toned torso which makes him blend in among a catwalk of male models.

But as he strutted semi-naked before audiences at New York Fashion Week this week there was something which made him stand out - and it wasn't just the silver swirls painted on his buff body.

Jack, 25, is the first male amputee to model at the Big Apple’s elite fashion showcase, an honor he enjoyed thanks to Lady Gaga’s favorite designer, Antonio Urzu, hand-picking him to appear.

''It all feels so surreal," he told the Daily Mail. "I can’t believe this is actually happening. To be the first male amputee model on a New York Fashion Week runway feels amazing - it feels like such a big deal.

“It’s pretty overwhelming, 'I just want to show that having a disability doesn’t need to hold you back.

See the video Here

“I always said if I was going to do something like this, I want to do it big. I want people to see me, and to realize that there needs to be more disabled models walking the runway.”
Behind the scenes at the FTL Moda show

Jack, from Bournemouth in Dorset, had his leg amputated when he was 16 years old after the limb had been withered by a condition called Proximal Femoral Focal Deficiency.

The fitness trainer became so fed up of travelling to hospital he actually opted to have the radical procedure and saw having a new, prosthetic limb as he start of a new chapter in his life.

“Growing up with the deformed leg was really hard - I had no muscle structure or knee joint and I walked with a really pronounced limp,” he said. “At primary school I was really into sports but it was hard to join in, and I would get bullied.

“I remember at the age of around seven saying I wanted to have it amputated but I needed to wait until it stopped growing - it felt like this devil attached to me. When I finally got it removed it felt like I’d been reborn.”

After becoming a fitness fanatic and winning Men’s Health Magazine’s Man of the Year, he signed up to Models of Diversity, a company that campaigns for greater diversity in the modelling industry.

Model on catwalk at the FLT Moda show

“Once I’d had my leg amputated I started to gain confidence and went to the gym,' he says. “I initially wanted to join the fire service, but I soon realised that it just wouldn’t be possible as an amputee - so I looked at what else I could do and discovered personal training.

“I’d really got into the gym and fitness, and then I remember seeing an article about Models of Diversity in a magazine. I went along to a photo shoot with them and everything has just snowballed from there.”

Model on catwalk at the FTL Moda show

Being selected by Urzi, whose a-list fans also include Britney Spears and Beyonce, is the pinnacle of a career which has already seen him appear in a string of adverts and photoshoots.

But the biggest thrill for Jack was joining other disabled people in the FTL Moda show, staged in conjunction with Models of Diversity, was the positive image he promotes.

“It’s such a massive step for me and the modelling industry,” he said.

Disabled poet deals with frustration of cerebral palsy by writing book - using just his NOSE!!!

A man with cerebral palsy has taken to writing poetry to deal with the frustrations of his disability - despite having to write it using just his nose.
Richard Hopley is celebrating seeing his first book published and stocked in Waterstones after spending more than a year writing it.

The 41-year-old says he became interested in poetry in his late teens, when the reality of his disability began to hit.
“I was noticing other young lads, holding hands with their girlfriends, which tormented and frustrated me inside," he says.

“At the time I had no outlet to channel my anger when, one day, I was doing some writing on my computer and suddenly this poem started to take shape and form and I have enjoyed doing it ever since.”

Richard has never let growing up with a disability stop him making the most of his life: “I have always tried to look on the positive side.
“I concentrate on what I can do and try not to dwell on what I can’t do. I normally manage to find a way to do most things though!”

Those ‘most things’ include trips to Amsterdam and Glastonbury and even a turn in a racing car, reports the LIverpool Echo.
But poetry has become his lifeline.
Liverpool EchoRichard HopleyTalent: Richard Hopley has described poetry as his lifeline
“Given my difficulties in communicating due to having no speech, I find my poetry is like a gateway to expressing myself, which I touched on with my frustration,” says Richard, 41.
“However, it also gives me a lot of pleasure and satisfaction.
“Today my poetry is so much better and positive.”
And he adds: “I love the challenge poetry presents to me. Each poem is like a snapshot of thought and expression.
“How I write a poem without making any notes beforehand is an amazing gift to me, I don’t know how it happens really.
"I suddenly get an idea in my mind and the words come as I am typing. I love this way of working, it’s spontaneous and exciting.
“And I love sharing my poetry with other people and seeing the reaction to each one.”


Of course, while the words may come more easily, the practicalities are not.
Richard writes his poems on an iPad, using his nose instead of his fingers to activate the letters.
“I used to use a big cumbersome computer and I was forever stretching, trying to operate a special mouse and standard keyboard.
"This always hurt my back so a few years ago I decided to buy an iPad and it has speeded everything up.

“I still have to type with my nose but it’s nowhere near as tiring.”
The subject matter can vary.
WaterstonesPublished: Richard's book will be on sale at Waterstones
“Living by the River Mersey at the Albert Dock, has influenced by life and my poetry tremendously.
“I can look out if my window onto the river and, to me, water tells stories in its movement.

"My favourite poem I have ever written is River Book, where the waves are like pages of a book that you can actually read, placing new thoughts in your mind.

“I wonder as I look on the surface, my mind dives in, revealing untold stories.”

But he goes on: “There are many different topics in my poetry. I write about technology quite a bit as it’s a major help in my life.

"A Bit Of The Apple illustrates this through celebrating the iPad and how it has totally changed my life.
"For instance, I can do everything by just touching lightly with my nose.”
Richard has put together a collection of his poems in his first book, River Book, available at Waterstones at £5.

Richard Hopley

He says: “I am incredibly pleased with my book, it is fantastic to know that other people get a chance to share my thoughts and hear my voice.”

And he adds: “I have plans to write another poetry book in a year or two. I want to write a thicker, proper mainstream book that will hopefully put me on the map as a known poet.

Richard Hopley

Have A Look

I go to high school and love it! Well, except for all the work. Anyway, here's the deal. Have you ever had anyone judge you just because of the way you look? Or even worse, had someone label you because of what something someone else has done? As a Muslim girl, I've had many incidents like that. I'm sure many of you have also met with someone who didn't like you because of your race, skin color, etc. Once, at my school cafeteria, a boy who was serving lunch looked at me and called me "Saddam Hussein." I've never met him! Another time we had to share our family tree with the class, a boy raised his hand and asked me, "Are you related to Osama bin Laden?" My teacher took my back, but I still felt so helpless. We all have so many problems, but there's one I want to talk about because I think many of us are feeling the same way.

We're growing up in a little bit of a scary generation. There are wars, violence, and an increasing amount of fear in the hearts of many people. But along with all this comes a much more nerve-wracking thing: Stereotypes. Stereotypes are rumors that people make up based on opinions. An example of a stereotype would be that in the times of slavery, every Southerner wanted slavery. That's not true. Some Southerners even helped slaves to escape! I want to talk about a stereotype that I have in mind.

Right now, there isn't much love for Muslims in the world. Why? You may have heard that Islam is a violent religion and that the women in Islam aren't treated well. What you heard was a stereotype. Now, I'm not an Islamic scholar or anything, I'm still pretty young, so I have more to learn. But I have a lot of knowledge about my religion and I can tell you for a fact that Islam is not a violent religion, neither is Christianity, neither is Buddhism, neither is Judaism, etc. Stereotypes hurt a lot of people.
 Haven't you ever been called a name because of people's negative opinions? I've been called a terrorist, and people have made horrid remarks to me because I'm Muslim. I've never hurt anyone, and I never will! Every religion has its share of fanatics. 
They're crazy about religion the same way most girls are crazy about Zac Efron. But these fanatics take things to the extreme and make their own rules while bending others. We shouldn't have to suffer for others' actions! Why do we allow ourselves to suffer?! Only we, the upcoming generation, can stop this violence and pain. I welcome anyone's opinions and questions! I'd be more than happy to answer your questions! But treat me with the same respect that you would want to be treated with because although I don't know any of you, I respect you for reading this letter of mine. Remember: I'm just one voice in the crowd, YOU can help fight stereotypes and prejudice too! I welcome you to share you experiences! I'll post up another letter next week - it will address the ten most known misconceptions about Islam. Thank you sooo much! Take care! Bye!

Yours Truly,
Anonymous Me……

Saturday, 13 September 2014


When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I’ve got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.  Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.
She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?  I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn’t love her anymore. I just pitied her!
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company.  She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.
The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn’t have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane.  When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.
In the morning she presented her divorce conditions.  She didn’t want anything from me, but needed a month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month, we both try to live as normal a life as possible. Her reason for this conditions were simple.  Our son had his exams in a month’s time and she didn’t want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.
This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day.  She requested that every day for the month’s duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.
I told Jane about my wife’s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.
My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don’t tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.  On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn’t tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.
She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.  Suddenly it hit me. She had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.
Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it’s time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last-minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, it was just like our wedding day.
But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy.  I drove to office and jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind.  I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.
She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart.
Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.  At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The sales girl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, “I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us apart”.
That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed – dead.
My wife had been fighting cancer for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push through with the divorce. At least, in the eyes of our son— I’m a loving husband.
Moral: The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse’s friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. And have a real happy marriage.


A doctor, a lawyer, a little boy and a priest were out for a Sunday afternoon flight on a small private plane. Suddenly, the plane developed engine trouble. In spite of the best efforts of the pilot, the plane started to go down. Finally, the pilot grabbed a parachute and yelled to the passengers that they better jump, and he himself bailed out.
Unfortunately, there were only three parachutes remaining.
The doctor grabbed one and said “I’m a doctor, I save lives, so I must live,” and jumped out.
The lawyer then said, “I’m a lawyer and lawyers are the smartest people in the world. I deserve to live.” He also grabbed a parachute and jumped.
The priest looked at the little boy and said, “My son, I've lived a long and full life. You are young and have your whole life ahead of you. Take the last parachute and live in peace.”
The little boy handed the parachute back to the priest and said, “Not to worry Father. The smartest man in the world just took off with my back pack."
Moral: Your job doesn't always define you, but being a Good Human being Does.

Sunday, 30 June 2013


So i was advised to continue this blog but am not so inspired cos i get no comment from u guys,so u guys should try and comment what you think about this blog so i know what next step to take....

Wednesday, 3 April 2013

The child and his mother:

A curious child asked his mother: “Mommy, why are some of your hairs turning grey?”

The mother tried to use this occasion to teach her child: “It is because of you, dear. Every bad action of yours will turn one of my hairs grey!”

The child replied innocently: “Now I know why grandmother has only grey hairs on her head.”