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Diaper References
Diaper/wetting references found in movies and on TV
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We had Lionel, but I was way too young to remember. We eventually had an 8'x10' HO layout that was made from the Lionel. The Lionel wood was cut up so the HO had two levels and the whole thing was U-shaped. I had an airport that folded up into a plastic box that you could carry like a suitcase. I had a couple of jets. I don't remember if they were Matchbox or what. Speaking of Matchbox, one of my friends had a ton of them. I only had a few. The jet scale (too small) was not quite right. Anyhow, I wanted to be a pilot, but my eyes would never cut it. When I started working I eventually found out I have glaucoma, so probably even more reason to not let me be a pilot. -
By scrt_ad_ssy75 · Posted
I wear ladies panties daily. I often wear girls panties as well. I fit size 14 (XL) girls panties. I have been wearing girls panties since I was nine years old. As a baby girl I wear girls pull ups or GoodNites. Often I will wear panties over my pull ups. -
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Gee Auntie. I wonder if he was kidnapped by members of the Mafia, then taken to the house of a cranky Mafia brother, an uncle came to check on him, the lies have been obvious, there was the video call with Grandpa. I don't consider myself the smartest one around, but I wouldn't need to speak their language to read the billboard sized context clues. (Excellent chapter, Seo-Ya is more 'human' than she seemed at first, but is still a giant potty head at heart. -
By Little Sherri · Posted
I have a quick update to the above; I worked until nearly 8:30 last night, and had intended to stumble, damp and hungry, into the kitchen, and make a sandwich or something. Everyone except the dog had been out of the house for most of the evening, so I assumed that they'd fended for themselves, and I would need to do the same. However, my wife and younger daughter had arrived home about a half-hour before I decided I'd had enough of spreadsheets, and to my surprise, a dinner was simmering away in the kitchen. She and I have not really spoken of the "unpleasantness", since it transpired; I've been maybe a little less unselfconscious about being in diapers, than I generally would be, but, we live together, and I wear them, so it's not like all references to them have disappeared from our household. I just wouldn't fold laundry wearing only a Critter Caboose and a Toronto Maple Leafs t-shirt. I said the food smelled good, and thanked them for including me (they'd both done the prep), and then I did "dad stuff" around the kitchen - emptying the organics bin and recycling, refilling the dog food bin. My daughter excused herself to go get changed, and then my wife addressed the, I don't know, quarter horse in the room (it had shrunk a bit). "Listen, I'm sorry that I said what I said, the other night. I'm not saying that I didn't have reasons to be annoyed, but the fact that you have mild incontinence, shouldn't have come into the argument." "Mild incontinence." That's a direct quote. I still harbour radiation burns from that conversation, and I didn't want to exhume the source of the gamma rays, so I just mumbled something about it being "Fine, no worries", and then I finished my chores, and ate dinner, maybe 7% less concerned that the Crinklz I was in, was impinging sufficiently on my silhouette, as to be detectable. I had jeans on, but the Crinklz, like it's brother that went to medical school, the BetterDry, does that Euro-nappy thing where it swells heroically at ground zero. I'll have to cogitate more on her wording, later, as I'm neck-deep in work stuff that I'm trying to get off my plate, before the weekend, but I do find it interesting that she's boiled all this down to my suffering mild incontinence. She has said, previously, that she wished that I hadn't gone so far down this strange path, but more or less revealed that she was pretty sure that, by now, I was committed, and ergo, she was too, because I'd "damaged myself", basically, and I haven't exactly sought to disabuse her of that notion. At night at least, I'd argue that she's right. I could try getting by without a diaper on, the next time we go to her parents' house for dinner, but going to bed without waterproof underpants of some description? Strongly ill-advised, at this point. I'd have to go back to what my parents attempted, at various points during my decade-long cohabitation with a roommate named nocturnal enuresis; I guess no drinks after dinner, and setting an alarm to get up and pee, at a couple of points in the night? We already have the mattress protector, although thankfully modern material advances mean that it does not crinkle, nor feel like you're laying on a garbage bag. Maybe she could devise a chart system, where I get stars? But what of beer? Wine? Scotch? Forbidden? That sounds awful. I'd rather just wear diapers.
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