After nearly 16 years, I finally put a foam cover on my prosthesis.  The robot leg is gone.  As I began walking around in public with this foam covered leg, I was amazed to recognize a twinge of anxiety in myself.  My daughter saw the cover and said sweetly, "Now I guess people won't notice".  I quickly came to my own defense and explained that that's not why I did it.  I did it because "Leggy puts holes in all of my nice dresses and pants and I don't want to tear up our furniture".  I had always made a point of being proud to show off my prosthesis and took on every question from a stranger as a learning opportunity.  I was pretty famous in my daughter's kindergarten class because it... robot mom.  After so many years with my prosthetic components exposed, I became accustomed to these questions, and even expected them.  The robotic appearance of my prosthesis became a big part of my identity.  I always thought it looked really cool that way.  

Then one day recently, about 3 weeks after my finger got caught in my knee unit during a bend (ouch), I was standing in my closet, holding my favorite dress.  There was a giant tear down the right side.  It was then that I told my husband that it was time for the cover.  

I'm getting more accustomed to this new appearance.  I even feel a little silly for letting a physical trait- the whole robot leg thing- become so much a part of my self identity.  It's not so bad to fit in and I think I can cope with it... for now.  Soon, I'm hoping to get the whole thing painted hot pink.  Then I think I might feel a little bit more comfortable.