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Baby Talk
Let your baby side show.
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By astrodiaper · Posted
I think we're done with the "extreme cold" here, but the wind is definitely back. I have this idea of listing random businesses on bingo cards, and you get to dot that business when the wind blows their sign out. -
By astrodiaper · Posted
Oh, damn. I forgot about these. I bought some when they were buy two, get one free. I ended up getting rid of one, but it lasted for a few years. I think I know where I have the unopened one stashed, but I don't know where the other one went. -
It starts to come out under its own pressure with no effort from me after I get up. I just let my body naturally push what it wants to out without trying to stop it. I'll try to finish in the toilet if needed but the initial morning poo is now being done in my night diaper. So a little from the Accident side and a little from the oh well I am in a soaked diaper already, so whatever why fight it, just let it happen side. I knew it very well could eventually happen to me at some point. I'm just not as bothered by it as I had expected I'd be with this situation. I know the day is coming for me when I mess myself at work for the first time because both bathrooms are in use and I can't hold it off any longer or when I'm out and about on a day off with no toilet nearby. My ability to poo in a toilets holding time and cruising range is dwindling. My bad knee is also slowing my ability to rush to a toilet in time. I should probably start taking an internal deodorant before I do end up messing at work and its obvious what I did 🤔 11 days now this morning, plus one more mess yesterday evening thinking it was just going be gas again. -
Methinks you worry too much about this. I just wear vanilla disposable protection (pull-up or tape-up nappy) and say I've got bladder issues. The medics just roll with it. I draw the line at my protection being visible to the other punters, but the medics will always help with that if necessary. After my last colonoscopy they wheeled me into the tea and biscuits room & pulled curtains round a bed so I could get back in my pull-up & clothes in privacy. I long ago stopped worrying about it. Nobody's ever suggested setting up an appointment with a urologist by the way, and I'd turn down the offer if I got one, on the grounds that it's all under control as far as I'm concerned. -
I want to ride my bicycle I want to ride my bike I want to ride my bicycle I want to ride it where I like - Queen “Bicycle Race” 1978 It’s been over a year since I finished paid work. It’s been months since I found myself up a ladder, juggling tools whilst contemplating Newton’s curse. Physical activity has been low. It’s been weeks since my house wasn’t filled with guests and consequentially, cheese, chips and alcohol. I have nappies that have mysteriously migrated from “snug” to “tourniquet-like”. I haven’t weighed myself because I’m unlikely to enjoy the data. I have re-defined Einstein’s famous equation: E=MC2 It’s actually Enormity = Munchies x Couchtime2 I considered my options: move, eat less or turn into a walrus. It was time to re-acquaint myself with exercise. In the small metal shed out in our backyard, a place so hot this time of year that even the spiders and reptiles have fled it in search of cooler climes, my old mountain bike was mummifying in the super-heated dusty gloom. Opening the creaking doors, a blast of heat roared out toward me but behind that was my bike, a mute vignette of entropy: its and mine as I recalled glorious days past on windswept wide, open roads. It took a whole day and two trips to the bike shop (staffed exclusively by muscular, lean men who stood before me as silent, chiselled witness to cycling’s power to defy walrusification) in order to get that bike rolling, stopping and changing gears again. At some point on Tuesday however, I reached the point where there was no longer any significant safety or mechanical impediments to using it. The story of how Oznl managed to recalibrate a rear chain derailleur even though he got lost 35 seconds into the instructional YouTube video is for another time. A short test cruise was in order. One problem: Did I mention it was a cloth nappy day? This wasn’t something I’d planned. Just like WW2 starting on a Friday (it did, I checked), it was just something that happened. I contemplated testing a mountain bike whilst clad in a thick Babykins cotton pull-up nappy under a Babykins terry-pull up (extra range) under milky white plastic pants. Less “Tour de France” this would be more “Wallace & Gromit” : the wrong trousers. At least I wasn’t that wet. My body had pulled its latest party trick and I’d wee’d in it a bit at my morning change but the day was hot (especially in the garage) and I’d consequentially expended more bodily moisture soaking my t-shirt as opposed to my underwear. “YOLO” I thought to myself. It didn’t need to be a long run. The first trick was getting on it. All that very thick, tight cloth nappy gear doesn’t do much for leg and hip flexibility. Mounting my iron steed probably wasn’t graceful but quickly, my puffy featureless crotch, bum and I wobblingly set off down the road. I was wearing an arse the size of a Volvo. There was surprisingly little chafing. At first. My rugged Babykins plastic pants somewhat held things in place but those encased leg elastics dragged against my thighs with every cadence of the pedals. It was also warm, wet and very, very snug. Snug isn’t such a great thing when it’s 30C with 78% humidity and you’re riding a bike. Soon however, my leg muscles began to exhibit more discomfort than my tortured nappy zone and so I forgot about the elastic sanding my thighs and repeatedly grinding my crotch into hot, pee-wet towelling. At least there weren’t pins. On the upside, with at least 1” of thick damp padding surrounding my crotch and bum, the painful tyranny of the bicycle seat and its largely-forgotten insistence on colonic ram raiding was muted and distance. It was still there but there was, insulation. It was like being kicked through a pillow: not great but things would be much worse without a pillow. Somehow, 9km went by. Overtaking motorists were presumably saluted by the cheeky swathe of milky plastic pant waist elastic that I found to have protruded above the back of my shorts upon my return. I suppose a onesie might help but even more layers of cloth insulation didn’t seem very appealing. I’ve spoken before about the “chilling effect” nappies have on physical activity but now I’ve demonstrated that bicycling in a nappy is at least feasible if not necessarily advisable. For future rides, I can either attempt to time those rides with changes and go nappy-free (I mean, what’s the worst that can happen – I’m wet with sweat when I get back anyway) or, I can try an “active” disposable or even, quelle horreur, a pull-up. I’m very disappointed that my 9km ride hasn’t made me thin though: it’s not like I really want to be doing dozens of them. Bring me a cheese.
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