My legs were my life.

Both my mom and dad were models.

The future is going to be awesome!

I just really love wearing shorts!

My go-to fashion uniform would be shorts and some really cool sneakers.

I stand not just for a disability, but I stand for women and women's rights.

My goal is to keep going and reach as far as possible to beat all odds placed before me.

First and foremost, I loved basketball. My dad introduced me to basketball when I was a baby.

I'm an athlete - my legs were everything. I had no idea what my life would be like without them.

I think getting rid of my leg was getting rid of the past and getting ready for my journey ahead.

I used to look at fashion from a superficial standpoint, and I can admit now that I wasn't so nice of a person.

I begged my mother to not allow them to take it. We did our best, but unfortunately, I had to lose my right leg.

The identity that I knew was completely stripped of me. I hid, and I hated life; I hated everything. The sun would bother me.

I hope to continue to open more doors and inspire more people, especially other amputees, to know that they are beautiful, too.

I can do both of the things I love, which is raise awareness for TSS and work as a model to help change beauty standards. It was a win-win.

Had I known toxic shock was real, and had I seen someone that had either lost limbs or spoke about it publicly, I would have never used tampons.

I read the personal stories everyone shares with me - those stories inspire me to keep going, and in doing so, I hope that I can inspire them in return.

Your body is a vessel. It doesn't really matter. It's what you leave here and how you influence other people's lives - that's what legacy you'll leave behind.

I want the image of disabled people like myself to change into a picture of strength. Fashion needs to redefine its idea of beauty and have more of an open mind.

Social media forced us to look at the bigger picture. More people are standing up saying, 'Hey, wait, this is beautiful, too,' and the fashion industry is listening.

I'm more beautiful than I've ever been because I've experienced so many things, and I can relate to so many different people. And you know, it's just made me a better person.

For five years of my life, I was just getting by - every day was painful. I couldn't wear heels, I couldn't run, and I could only walk for, like, 20 minutes. That's not living.

All of a sudden, I don't have a leg. I'm in a wheelchair. I have half a foot; I can't even walk to the bathroom. I'm in a bed, I can't move, and I felt like those four walls were my prison.

My left foot is severely damaged from TSS, and I'm probably going to have to amputate my left leg. I could be super depressed about it, but I have been given a second chance. I'm here, and I'm living.

I have a golden leg that I am completely proud of, but my left foot that has an open ulcer, no heel, and no toes. Over the years, my body has produced a lot of calcium, which causes my bones to grow on that foot.

The letters TSS that I once read in the fine print buried on the bottom of tampon boxes soon came to define me. TSS - Toxic Shock Syndrome: a potentially fatal complication of certain types of bacterial infections.

Toxic Shock Syndrome cost me my leg, but, years later, I have since dedicated myself to raising awareness about TSS prevention. I am comfortable in my new role as an advocate against an affliction that affects thousands.

They say that it's rare, and for the longest time, I felt alone being a victim of TSS. It not only left physical wounds but mental ones. I battled PTSD and fell into a dark depression after what happened. I melted into my bed, and life just sort of stopped.

Every time I turn on the TV, it infuriates me. You'll see an ad for Advil or Viagra and hear some monotonous voice warn you about even the smaller side effects like headaches or nausea. When you see a tampon commercial, it's all happy teenage girls running along the beach in bikinis. The dangers are beyond minimized.

It wasn't until my girlfriend, photographer Jennifer Rovero, took hundreds of pictures of me as I recovered from my amputations that things started to change. The process was a sort of therapy for me, which Jennifer coined as 'photo therapy.' I grew to see the beauty and strength in myself and my journey through the lens of her camera.

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