Yeah, not so much as a limp, Quinn.
The Quinn storyline happened in direct parallel to my niece having a relapse of an undiagnosed neuromuscular disease. My pretty, green-eyed and blonde niece was in a wheelchair again, unable to walk on her own (but with a bit more movement and sensation than Quinn in Big Brother). Quinn in a chair was very hard for me.
As Quinn was going through her physical therapy, my niece has also been working very hard to regain the ability to walk. Same timeline.
And while Quinn was dancing at Nationals, my niece was joking that she should make friends with some of the ladies at a nearby retirement home, because she needs some walking buddies who are just as slow, and easily fatigued, and in need of help from a walker as she rehabilitates. She’s not dancing. Her leg muscles are nowhere near strong enough to support her in the sort of move you can see Quinn doing here in the bottom left.
It’s not just that Glee conveniently forgets reality: sometimes that’s the best thing about Glee. It’s that Glee is sloppy, and lazy, and writes Big Things it has no intention or ability to follow through on.
Quinn gets t-boned by a truck, is paralyzed, but dancing again by mid-May.
For that matter, Quinn has a breakdown between Junior and Senior year, radically changes her appearance, her behavior, her relationships. Back in Glee club, towing the line in just a handful of episodes. And hey, let’s get into Yale while we’re at it.
Even before that, Quinn gets pregnant, gets kicked out of her house, gives up her child, and is back at school singing to Mr. Schue before the placenta is out.
No ramifications. No consequences we can see. No middle: everything is montage.
Sometimes it’s fun — when the subject matter is a bit lighter — and then sometimes it straddles the line between ridiculous and repugnant.
(Source: agronlovers, via serena---vanderwoodsen)
