![[DD] Boards & Chat](https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/uploads/monthly_2021_11/DDweb-02.png.0c06f38ea7c6e581d61ce22dffdea106.png)
 |
Watersports
Pee-play without the diapers!
97 topics in this forum
-
- 0 replies
- 9.7k views
-
- 45 replies
- 10.7k views
-
- 4 replies
- 820 views
-
- 13 replies
- 5.3k views
-
- 2 replies
- 606 views
-
- 14 replies
- 3.1k views
-
- 25 replies
- 15.4k views
-
- 7 replies
- 1.8k views
-
- 11 replies
- 4.1k views
-
- 190 replies
- 56k views
-
- 52 replies
- 15.8k views
-
- 2 replies
- 1.1k views
-
- Guest
-
- 3 replies
- 684 views
-
- 1 reply
- 367 views
-
- 2 replies
- 1.1k views
-
- 12 replies
- 4k views
-
- 5 replies
- 1.5k views
-
- 0 replies
- 311 views
-
- 0 replies
- 870 views
-
- 2 replies
- 841 views
-
- 41 replies
- 28.9k views
-
- 9 replies
- 3k views
-
- 77 replies
- 43.2k views
-
- 1 reply
- 741 views
-
- 11 replies
- 4.2k views
.thumb.JPEG.ceb8d969e2d6b9f5106550bae86932c5.JPEG)
-
Current Donation Goals
-
March BillsRaised $80 of $400 target
-
General FundRaised $0
-
-
-
Posts
-
By Little Sherri · Posted
I have no idea how this works in the UK, but in Canada, we do need to do our shopping when the policy renews, otherwise there is a penalty for ending the contract prematurely. I don't know if they make an exception for adding a new vehicle - I suspect not, only because the last time I did it, nothing on the policy changed, other than the added vehicle and associated cost - the policy number and cancellation date remained, making me suspect that the change was not the legal equivalent of having embarked upon a new policy. However, you can have a new vehicle insured by another provider, at least in Canada - people don't often do this, in pursuit of multi-vehicle discounts, but I have a friend who has two cars under two different insurance companies. One is a truck, and for whatever reason, his main supplier was proposing to charge him a king's ransom, so he insured it elsewhere. And in general, when your renewal date arrive, SHOP! Auto insurance is a racket. They tend to woo you with a price point, and then turn the temperature up on your premiums, and hope that inertia keeps you where you are. SHOP> -
Chapter 49 The next morning, as I gently changed Betsy's overnight diaper and fastened a fresh one around her waist, my thoughts wandered to the day ahead. The sun was just beginning to filter through the curtains, casting a soft golden light across the room. She lay quietly, thumb in her mouth, watching me with sleepy eyes. Over breakfast, while she munched on syrupy pancakes and kicked her feet under the table, I casually mentioned, “We’ll be heading into town today.” She looked up, curious. “Why?” Because we need a treat today. I thought we could stop by that café you like—the one with the blueberry muffins and the window seat.” Her eyes lit up for a moment, but she didn’t say anything. Just smiled and returned to her pancakes, content. I added, “We also need to grab a few supplies we’re running low on—things you definitely wouldn’t want to run out of.” She paused mid-bite. “Like what?” “Well,” I said, leaning in a little, “the two most important things we’re almost out of are diaper rash ointment and baby powder—for you.” She furrowed her brow, clearly puzzled. “But my mom packed enough of that stuff to last the whole trip.” I gave her a knowing look and chuckled softly. “Your mom didn’t plan on you being in diapers full-time for six weeks.” She blinked, then gave a sheepish grin, as if realizing just how much had changed since the start of the trip. She shrugged with a little grin and said, “Well, there is that.” I nodded, amused. “We’ll need a few other supplies too—but I could use your help picking them out.” She looked up from her plate, curious. “Like what?” “Well,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “some snacks for the house, maybe a few things to keep us entertained. You know—stuff we’ll want for the next few weeks.” As she took another bite of her syrup-drenched pancakes, I watched a sticky trail drip down her chin and land squarely on her chest. I chuckled quietly to myself. And maybe a bib, I thought. She smiled again, clearly enjoying the idea of being part of the plan. After breakfast and a quick tidy-up around the cabin, I took Betsy to the bedroom to get her dressed. She stood patiently as I helped her into a pair of soft denim shorts and a cheerful top with little sunflowers printed across the fabric. As she turned to grab her sandals, I noticed the faint outline beneath the shorts—subtle, but there if you knew what to look for. The diaper was well-hidden, and to anyone not paying close attention. As I headed to the bathroom to finish getting ready, I called out to Betsy, “Can you grab your diaper bag and make sure there are two diapers inside?” By the time I reached the front door, she was already there, standing with the bag slung over her shoulder and a proud little smile on her face. “Yep, everything’s in there,” she said confidently. “Alright then,” I replied, opening the door. “Let’s head into town.” The morning sun was warm and bright, casting a golden glow across the porch and lighting up the sunflower print on her top. As we walked toward the car, I caught myself wondering if I should’ve had her wear a bra. Too late now, I thought, brushing the thought aside. She didn’t seem to mind, and the day was already shaping up to be relaxed and easy. On the drive into town, Betsy was busy sipping from her oversized water jug, the kind with a built-in straw and cartoon stickers all over it. I glanced over and chuckled quietly. Well, I know exactly where that’s going to end up, I thought, amused by the inevitability. When we arrived, I parked and stepped out, walking around to open her door. She climbed out with a quiet grace, waiting patiently as I reached in to grab her diaper bag. From the way she shifted her weight and adjusted her shorts, I could tell—without needing to ask—that she’d used her diaper at some point during the drive. She didn’t say anything, and neither did I. It was just part of the rhythm of our day. There’s a beautiful five-mile trail just outside town that we make a point to hike every time we visit. It winds along the riverbank, shaded by tall pines and dotted with benches that offer perfect spots to pause and take in the view. As I stood at the trailhead, watching the morning sun filter through the trees, I glanced over at Betsy and briefly considered whether her diaper needed changing before we set out. I walked over and gently checked under her plastic pants—just a quick peek to gauge the situation. Damp, but not urgent. She could wait until we got back, So I left the diaper bag in the car. The hike, as always, was wonderful. The air was crisp, the birds were in full chorus, and the river sparkled beside us like a ribbon of glass. We stopped now and then to rest on the benches, watching the water flow and pointing out squirrels darting through the underbrush. Betsy was in good spirits, chatting and laughing, her energy seemingly endless. By the time we reached the car, though, I could tell—without even needing to check—that her diaper was ready for a change. There was a certain way she walked, a subtle shift in her posture that made it obvious. I walked around to the passenger side, grabbed her diaper bag, and said gently, “Go ahead and open the back door and hop in. Lay down so I can get you changed.” She did as asked without a word, stretching out across the back seat with practiced ease. As I slid her shorts down, I found myself thinking about how much easier this would be if her clothes had the same kind of snap closures you find on baby onesies. It would’ve saved time and spared us both the awkward shuffle of pulling everything off. And those plastic pants—if only they had snap sides too. I wasn’t even sure if they made them in her size, but it was a thought worth exploring. As I began easing Betsy's shorts down to reach her diaper, she quietly slipped her thumb into her mouth. It was a familiar gesture—her way of grounding herself during moments that felt a little too exposed. The backseat of the car offered some privacy, but not enough to make her completely comfortable. Still, she lay there calmly, trusting the routine. With her legs gently lifted, I wiped her bottom with practiced care, the rustle of wipes and the soft hum of passing traffic the only sounds around us. Just then, a woman strolled by on the sidewalk. She glanced over, smiled warmly, and said, “It’s nice to see a boy changing his little sister’s diaper.” Then she continued on her way without pause. I gave a small nod, unsure whether to feel proud or slightly embarrassed. Mostly, I just focused on finishing the change. Betsy’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink at the comment, but she didn’t say a word—her thumb still tucked in, her eyes fixed on the ceiling of the car. The only hiccup came when I tried to get her shorts back on. No matter how I tugged or adjusted, they just wouldn’t slide over the bulk of the diaper while she was lying down. After a few attempts, I gently asked her to step out and stand up. She did so without complaint, and I quickly pulled the shorts into place. Thankfully, the parking lot was quiet, and no one else was around to catch a glimpse. Within moments, she was dressed and ready, her usual bounce returning as we packed up to continue our day. As I packed the diapering supplies back into Betsy’s bag, she tugged at my sleeve and urged, “Come on, let’s go! I’m starving.” I didn’t waste a second. We locked up the car and headed straight for the café. The moment we stepped inside, the aromas wrapped around us like a warm hug—rich, savory, and sweet all at once. It smelled so good, you could practically gain weight just by breathing it in. The scent of fresh bread, sizzling meats, and cinnamon-laced pastries filled the air, making our stomachs growl in unison. The food, as always, didn’t disappoint. I went with the meatloaf sandwich—thick, hearty, and drenched in gravy—paired with a cob of sweet corn that practically melted in my mouth. And for my drink, it had to be a Dr Pepper. In my book, it’s the best pop ever made—hands down. Betsy opted for a crisp chef salad, piled high with fresh greens, turkey slices, and shredded cheese. She added a cob of sweet corn to her plate too, and washed it all down with a chilled 7UP. She looked content, her cheeks rosy from the morning sun and her eyes scanning the room with quiet curiosity. With a good chunk of the day still ahead of us, neither of us felt ready to head home. Betsy, ever the train enthusiast, was eager to revisit the railway museum. She wanted to see if anything had changed since last year—when we spent four hours exploring every inch of the place, from the vintage locomotives to the interactive exhibits. After we wrapped up at the museum, we still had time to spare before hitting the grocery store. As we walked back toward the car, Betsy turned to me and asked, “Can we stop by that boutique I like?” I smiled and said, “For you, we can go to any store you want.” She beamed. That little shop had become a favorite of hers—petite, tucked between a bakery and a bookstore, with racks of dresses that somehow always seemed to fit her just right. Stylish and age-appropriate, they struck the perfect balance between playful and mature—never childish, never overdone. As we strolled toward the boutique, I remembered that it had a toddler section tucked away in the back—small, quiet, and easy to overlook unless you knew it was there. The thought lingered in my mind, though I wasn’t sure yet if it would come into play. Once inside, I told Betsy I’d be browsing while she shopped. She nodded and headed toward the racks of dresses, while I made my way to the back corner. It didn’t take long before I spotted exactly what I’d hoped to find—something practical, discreet, and surprisingly stylish. We’re definitely coming back here before heading home, I thought, mentally bookmarking the item. I circled back to find Betsy holding up a dress, her eyes glowing with that unmistakable spark of excitement. “Have you tried it on yet?” I asked. “Not yet,” she replied with a smile. “But I’m heading to the dressing room now.” A few minutes later, I stood just outside the door, waiting. But something felt off. I could hear the subtle shift in her tone when she called out, “It’s too short.” Concerned, I asked gently, “Mind if I take a look?” She opened the door, and I stepped in. Right away, I saw the issue—the hem of the dress skimmed just above her thighs, and the diaper she was wearing peeked out ever so slightly. It wasn’t glaring, but it was enough to make her feel self-conscious. “If you weren’t wearing that diaper,” I said softly, “it would be a perfect fit.” She nodded, her expression a mix of disappointment and quiet acceptance. I could tell she loved the dress, but reality had nudged its way in. Still, there was something sweet about the moment—her vulnerability, her trust, and the way she let me be part of it. She shook her head, frowning slightly. “No, I still don’t think it’s the right size.” “I think we’re going to find out,” I said, gently encouraging her. “Lift the dress for me so I can take a closer look.” She hesitated, then slowly raised the hem. I knelt down and carefully slid her diaper down, mindful of her comfort. As I did, I couldn’t help but think how much easier this would’ve been if we’d remembered the diaper bag—she was definitely due for a change. But for now, we had to make do. Once she stepped out of the diaper and let the dress fall back into place, she turned to the mirror. Her face lit up instantly. The fit was perfect—no awkward bunching, no peeking edges. Just a clean, flattering line that made her look and feel confident. “So,” I asked, smiling, “are you going to get it?” She nodded with a big grin. “Yes.” “Good,” I said. “You look great in it. Let’s get it off so we can buy it.” I helped her slip out of the dress and eased her top back on, smoothing the fabric over her shoulders. Then came the inevitable part—getting her diaper back on. I looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry. We didn’t bring the diaper bag, so I can’t get you into a dry one. We’ll have to put this one back on.” She gave me a sad look, her voice barely above a whisper. “Go ahead. I’m used to a soggy diaper.” I nodded gently and carefully fastened it back on, making sure she was as comfortable as possible. Then I helped her into her shorts, and we headed to the register to pay for the dress. As we walked toward the grocery store, the afternoon sun warming the sidewalk beneath our feet, my mind drifted to the surprise I had planned for Betsy. I just hoped she’d be okay with it—because if she was, it might turn out to be the best part of the day. -
By Hoppin_bunnies · Posted
The regular kitchen trash bags and cans really tend to leave a lot of odor around. that is why i decided to just get a diaper pail. The normal dekor diaper pails are a bit too small for adult diapers- but if you get the dekor plus, those are just wide enough and can easily hold about 3 days worth. you can add some sprays, deoderizers and stuff on top of that to really eliminate odors. -
By PeterLupus · Posted
Prep for conversation with urologist today: BLADDER Recurring UTIs What am I doing wrong when ISC? Learn from nurse? Is that how I will have to live forever? Does the risk of UTI increase with sphincter resection? Try partial resection to allow for voiding without straining, and at lower bladder volumes? Botox Urgency Urgency is small under 200 or 300ml or so Urgency quickly grows 200 or 300ml - quickly very unpleasant Pain & cramping in pelvis Unchanged Voiding Without a catheter, I can get urine out only if bladder >300 or 400ml Even then, voiding is difficult, dribbling only External sphincter or pelvis still locking up / spasming when the flow starts. Leaking When bladder is full, I sometimes have drops and squirts coming out. Wearing diaper. Sleep through the night Only possible with indwelling catheter. Otherwise, wake up 2 - 3 times. Sometimes have to cath and go back to sleep. When traveling through timezones, indwelling is the only way to not get woken up every 30 minutes or so Indwelling catheter I wore one a few days here and there, gave me peace in my bladder Only discomfort is where catheter passes through in pelvic floor. How to make that better? Afraid of exercising with indwelling catheter. I don’t like inserting indwelling catheters myself. Can I get a nurse to do that? OVERALL I JUST DON’T WANT TO FEEL MY BLADDER. I AM TIRED OF UTIS AND THE RISK OF UTIS. I AM OK WITH LEAKING AND DIAPERS IF THIS ALLOWS ME TO NO LONGER FEEL MY BLADDER. Script for diapers Mental impact Depressed Low libido I orgasm less and less frequently, I rarely feel the need to orgasm. PAIN IN TESTICLES Pain increases when moving (during sex, exercising). Pain sometimes increases for no reason (in bed, sitting). I WANT DENERVATION SURGERY ON SPERMATIC CORDS PAIN IN PELVIS Pain extends from front (are of bladder) through perineum to rectum. Pain is dull, sometimes throbbing. Neurological? Spine? What can be done about that? ED Viagra usually works well and I can make the wife happy. But sometimes Viagra doesn’t work. For those times, I want to try Trimix. I want to try Trimix. Trimix that doesn’t need to be kept in the fridge? Alternative? Reconstituted? Can nurse show me how to do it properly? -
.thumb.jpg.0887b2ac8625567bcd07a40d3c23daaa.jpg)
By Neversaynever · Posted
Hi Welcome from another newbie. I hope you'll enjoy - the forum, but especially the experience of wearing. TBH I'm sure you will. I haven't looked back and don't want to. Xxx
-
-
