Dear Sir, - I was very interested in your "Definitely One-legged" correspondent, and as I am a one-legged girl myself, I can quite understand her feelings. I have been on a single leg since sixteen years of age, and don't regret it one little bit. I well remember my despair at waking up after my operation and finding my leg was off above the knee, and also the shock when I first dressed, to see my single foot beneath my skirt, and felt that at any cost I must have my other foot.
Fortunately I had a dear friend who used to come to see me in the nursing home, and to my surprise begged me not to have an artificial leg. One day he arrived with a pair of the slenderest French crutches, which he had had made for me, and on these I practised hard about the room and corridors, until one afternoon when he arrived I slipped them under my arms and hopped to the door to meet him.
I shall not forget the look of delighted surprise with which he greeted me, nor the thrill of hopping along the garden of the home by his side. I promised him there and then, to keep to my crutches, but soon discovered that he also liked a pin leg, so I was measured for one, and send you a snap wearing it. You will notice that I have on a sports shoe, but when on my crutches I generally wear a smart high-heeled shoe, and in the evenings I have two or three with four-inch heels. I think the fascination of being one-legged is partly from the attention it attracts.
Like some of your other monopedes, I occasionally wear smart slacks, and you my guess my empty trouser leg pinned tightly over my short stump does not half arouse some stares. Of course Fred loves it all, and is never so pleased as when I am swinging along on my crutches in a crowded street or trotting along by his side on my wooden leg. I think, however, that we like it best when my empty skirt swings idly about, and people stare with pitying glances at me. I have tried to analyse why we are both so potty over what most people think a great misfortune. I think it is my helplessness and dependence on him that appeals to Fred, and probably the pity and attention that appeals to me.
However that may be, we certainly get a good deal of fun and pleasure out of it. Sometimes in the garden we have great games.
Fred will take my crutches away and I will hop and crawl after him to get them back, generally ending in his picking me up in his arms and kissing his "little hopper," as he calls me.
Like other of your monopedes, I can now get about the house without either crutches or pin leg, and often discard them in the evenings, when I put on a smart evening frock with skirt. In conclusion, I wish other one-legged girls, like "Doreen," would send their photos.
Yours truly
Single Shoe Only.