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If you CAN simply “leave” your DL side then I say good luck to you! Do so! Life would certainly be a LOT simpler for me if I wasn’t compelled to live it in nappies 🤣 Privately using pads or nappies to deal with OAB is hardly something society should be persecuting you about. That's just how you choose to deal with a limitation your body has. I suspect however that the whole diaper-humiliation thing might not be that easy to walk away from though. These things in my experience tend to be baked in deep. It may well be that you might need to settle for having a plan that keeps it well hidden from others and managed in such a way so that nobody is harmed.

Sometimes your posts can be a little hard to follow. Whilst I don’t think (most) people are expecting Oxford-dictionary levels of grammatical precision, sometimes the point you are wanting people to comment on isn’t clear to others. This is a good example: I’m sure YOU knew what you meant but it isn’t clear to the reader what it is that “everyone here wants to keep it”. Perhaps if you put out a specific question you’d get a better result? To have a guess at what you're asking: In general, I find that the two broad categories (“AB” and “DL”) that get used in an attempt to categorise people in this place often don’t fit well. To me it seems that there are a variety of broad influences (fetishism, masochism, regression) acting upon people that cause them to appear somewhere in a broad map of diaper-fixated behaviours. Lots of people don’t fit neatly into an AB, DL or even incontinent category: such as me. They’re just labels. They're not scientific but just another example of the kind of mental shortcuts we as humans use to try to make sense of our world.

Yep. My experience is that it's almost perversely disinclined to be 'encouraged'. Any kind of specific focus on it for me sent me back to being dry at night for prolonged periods of time. I've learned now to try to ignore it and as a result, wet the bed frequently enough to mean that I would not dare sleep without a nappy on. I was a lot slower than you. It was several months of 24/7 before the first unambiguous sleep-wetting event occurred but unlike you, prior to that I'd been 100% dry at night since I was 3 years old.

This is NOT a good place to get medical advice but I suspect Mum isn’t a great source for it either. I for one have NEVER heard of diaper use creating prostate issues. As I’ve said before, I think it’s far more likely that this is just something she’s using as ammunition for throwing shade at a practice of yours that she does not like. I guess if things came to a head here you could seek medical advice to confirm the supposition that nappy use doesn’t create prostate issues. I suspect however that your Mum will simply move on to a new objection should her first be discredited. To the extent that you hurt nobody else in that activity (no unconsenting involvement of others, paying for own your nappies and cleaning up for yourself) then this is nobody’s business except yours. You repeatedly mention shame and humiliation. Nobody should judge you should you crave these things. As @Little Sherri has said, it’s not as though you chose those desires. You’re just the one left to deal with them. BUT I see one “risk” here. If shame and humiliation is derived through nappy-related interactions with other unconsenting people then that IS a problem: for them AND you. Something to keep in mind.

TLDR: Nothing happened, it didn’t matter. You may recall that some weeks ago I was referred for an angiogram after “failing” one of my routine cardiology checks. After much fretting and soul-searching I’d girded my (padded) loins and decided to head off to our local hospital (where the procedure was to take place) wearing a nappy, eschewing my usual practice of squibbing out and finding an old/embarrassing pair of underpants. As it turns out, wearing a nappy to a CT Angiogram is a complete non-event. This is the lesson of the week and possibly the only useful fact provided by this update 🤣 It was at best kind of a nappy. I wore a Tena pro-skin pull-up under sober black compression pants. The idea here was that firstly, it might withstand a casual glance without revealing its true identity (kind of like Clark Kent but for underwear) and secondly, if I had to remove-and-replace everything, I could non-destructively do so. As it happens I wasted a pull-up. I could have used a proper tape-on nappy and plastic pants and nothing would have happened. I believe I’d confused the MRI scanner with the simpler orbital x-ray device used in computed tomography. The former involves ridiculously strong magnetic fields with massive associated ferro-magnetic risk mitigated by all sorts of stripping. The latter involves removing my shirt to allow ECG leads to be fitted. Even this was only to enable the CT scanner to “pace” its image capture with where my heart was in its beating cycle: kind of like freeze frame but for live meat. Even the intra-venous cannula was inserted into a vein at my inner elbow and not, as I had somehow conflated with my numerous cath-lab procedures, a vein at my inner thigh. “You may feel like you’re wetting your pants” the technician warned me as she loaded up the iodline-based contrast dye syringe ready for injection during the x-ray scan. I suppose I could have told her that I had dressed for just such an occasion but discretion prevailed. She’s right though. I have the iodine contrast infusion before so I knew what to expect. You might imagine that iodine introduced into a vein would take some period of time to work its way around the body but in fact it only takes a few seconds. Apart from the distinctive metallic taste that mysteriously appears in ones mouth, a rather startling burst of warmth appears at your groin. This is to do with blood vessel dilation and a resultant rush of warm blood to the vessels below the skin there. To a seasoned, veteran pants-wetter such as myself I could tell that the physical sensations did not fully align with having a pee in your pants but I could see how a nervous patient might panic. There are some similarities. I was in fact dry. Apart from the fact that I didn’t really trust my pull up, one of the laundry list of “prerequisites” for this test was fasting for 2 hours prior. Since I arrived at 8am, I’d had nothing to eat or drink and was slightly dehydrated. This had also afforded the health care professional attempting to cannulate me the opportunity to “tut tut” and dig around in my arm with a needle for a while trying to find a shrivelled vein. And so the test ensued: laying flat on a motorised table being repeatedly remote-control inserted into and out-of the hole of a giant plastic-and-metal doughnut whilst a robotic voice told me to hold my breath or breath. The brief flush of pants-wetting-and-iron-filings-taste sensations and we were done. In any case, after the mandatory “let’s wait a bit to see if he keels over” came the similarly mandatory “can we please have your credit card” and I was on my way. Fun fact: I’m never truly dry even when I think I am. There always seems to be a small damp patch at “ground zero”. I’ve no idea when it happens. It’s never more than a few drops or a teaspoon but some kind of leakage is going on. I’d never need a nappy for it. A tiny pad would suffice but it’s an odd thing. I wet my pull up properly on the way home due to a sudden bout of urgency. There wasn’t really much pee and so it held ok which was good news for my new car’s seat. I changed out of it into something more substantial when I got back home. Nothing about the soggy sensations from my nether regions had me confident in its ability to withstand further usage. And the angiogram results? No cardiac land mine is presently embedded in my chest (there was a 2% chance that I would not be allowed to stand up from the scan table, instead to be trollied through the tunnel under the road to the large teaching hospital to which the radiology clinic was attached). The artefacts observed that triggered this scan remain one of the mysteries of a heart that has been messed around with a few too many times by surgeons. In the absence of any spectacular symptoms, the strategy going forward is one of watchful waiting. Anyway, zero nappy bravery points for this exercise.

I think that the days of forums as a mainstream information exchange platform are probably over. I think that this forum has survived at all is a reflection of its unique body of knowledge and its refuge within a very small niche NOT (so much) occupied by the social media giants. I also think those social media giants have shaped a generation: algorithmic content feeding with endless, instant micro-gratification have captured a lot of younger eyeballs. This is in contrast to Gen-Xers (and their predecessors) who with minds forged in a long-form text are are more inclined to invest in searching for content. Added to this is the proliferation of mobile devices as the primary portal to internet viewing. Small screens and scrolling don’t lend themselves well to either reading or writing long-form text. These platforms are designed for content consumption, not content generation and forums need both. This place is a book: a longitudinal aggregation of text-based information. Reddit, Instagram, Discord, Snapchat etc. are comics. There’s a place for both but it would be sad if the next generation didn’t realise that books existed, let alone the value they confer.

These... Although practice and product certainly reduced unintentional bed-wetting, they are the only product I've found to be close to 100% effective in managing the inevitable leaks that adult disposable nappies exhibit when used in bed. For me, the 95% of nights they are dry on waking and the other 5% I'm grateful I was wearing them. In my experience the trick of positioning yourself carefully in bed before wetting fades away once you start wetting in your sleep.

I find that the whole tends to be less than the sum of the parts with disposable double-diapering. For me at least, the two nappies just seem to interfere with each other and make leaks more likely. For me the answer has been heavier nappies augmented with plastic pants.

I spilled a few table spoons of water on our laundry bench. Not deliberately. Like WW1, it was just sh1t that happened. Some time later, as Murphy’s spanner gravitates its landing spot towards the least accessible part of the vehicle you were using it on, so did this water find its way into a power board feeding nearby appliances. Once there, it provided a convenient shortcut for our 240v mains to earth, tripping the household residual current device ("RCD") cutting power to everything. In a way that’s good. Before the days of RCD the outcome would have been to electrocute any person who eventually encountered the spill. By the time this happened though I’d moved on to other parts of the house to so it took me 10 minutes or so of circuit isolation to work out why there was no power (RCD) and why it kept tripping (aqua pura in an outlet). Emptying out the soggy power board and resetting everything restored electrickery. It then fell to me to go around and reset everything in the house that was flashing “12:00”. There were many such things. Then, half an hour later, my beloved came home from work to dourly tell me that she couldn’t turn any lights on. I hadn't noticed. I'd grown used to the dark. Ironically the light circuit itself was alive but the problem was they are “smart” lights activated by “smart” switches and our home server had suffered a power cut. I rebooted the home server manually. The lights still didn’t work. In a flash of IT insight, I then went around the house manually toggling the power (employing the dis-used wall switches) to every smart bulb to force it to reconnect to the (re-established) WiFi with a (more) current session token. The lights weren’t on the RCD circuit so they never experienced the outage. They didn’t know that the WiFi network had bounced and consequentially their access tokens were as simple stones. The lights now worked, kind of. But the house mobile phone app wasn’t working for my beloved’s preferred phone-based house control. I checked the logs on the home server. The dynamic DNS I was using was throwing errors so the phone couldn’t find the server via open internet. I cleared some caches, re-started the service and said a “Hail Mary”. The dynamic DNS came back up and now the app worked. Then the TV wouldn’t turn on. I found the hidden smart switch that could be used to hard reset the Google TV. Eventually, the TV rebooted and we had lights AND telly. By now it was dark, both outside and in my beloved’s mood. “What am I supposed to if you’re not here when this happens?” wailed my beloved who knows nothing of networking or electricity. “Don’t pour water into an AC socket?” I suggested. She’s right though. I should simplify the house for when I’m dead.

Yeah mate. A bit crinkly like the Concord was a bit noisy on take-off!

They are “nappies” in Australia. Other related nomenclature would be “dummies” and “prams”. Having said that, it’s changing (no pun intended). Digital connectivity, globalisation and the sheer outnumbering of Australians by North Americans has seen a huge and creeping “Americanisation” of Australian language (Lexical creep). "Fries" are now a thing here (displacing "chips") and occasionally "cookies" replace "biscuits". I’ve seen younger Australian ABDL talking about “diapers” or even “dips” quite frequently when I was playing around with Discord. We’ve lost the Halloween battle already: Halloween is now a thing here. It never was. Our kids were force-fed it by retailers until it stuck 😠

From the hallway or just after you've left the pub? 🤣 100% crinkle, 0% rattle. Elevated local audibility verified by @Stroller so it's not like I pulled a bad pair 🤣

It seems lately that I’ve been churning 2026 “Gary” high waist plastic (PVC) pants faster than the former Soviet Union burned through their 1986 cohort of Chernobyl firefighters. Perhaps this is yet another example of “enshittification”: the process whereby formerly good products cope with endless fiscal haircuts to their manufacturing costs by yielding up quality, quantity, longevity or sometimes all three. It seemed to me that only last week a pair of these would last for years. Nowadays last week’s pair is well, last week. The failure mode is always the same. The plastic hardens and splits somewhere around the encased leg elastics. Apart from being uncomfortable (the split edges of vinyl slightly abrade the skin they rest against), this creates an elevated minor leak risk. Pee hitting the leggings of my plastic pants (it happens) can soak through. Whilst not exactly a Möhne Dam level event, the resultant small yellow marks to be observed on our polyester mattress protector at sheet changing time displease my beloved. Visiting my nappy dealer late last week I bemoaned the ephemeral nature of their duty these days whilst he rummaged about looking for a fresh pair that wasn’t pink. “Euroflex?” he suggested, proffering a capacious pair of pants that looked like an elastic-equipped polythene bag. “Aren’t they noisy?” I replied. “They’re not TOO bad and they last very well by all reports”. Yeah ok. I mean how bad could they be? It turns our VERY bad. That night I showered before laying myself down upon a fluffy, kite-folded terry nappy and reaching for the pins. Suitably encased, I reached for my new “Euroflex” waterproof pants and pulled them on. They seemed VERY crinkly. I pulled on some shape-wear pants over my nappy to keep things snug. These stretchy/huggy over-pants also have the effect of quietening down unruly plastic pants. Not these ones though. OMG the noise. I could clearly hear myself crunch-crunching around as I looked for some tracksuit pants to disguise my somewhat bulky under-gear. The additional acoustic dampening of my thin polyester tracky-daks was, as expected, minimal: like placing a potted fern in front of a squawking parrot. Dressed for an evening and night of pants-peeing I waddled for the door. Folded and pinned terry nappies aren’t great for gymnastic flexibility at the best of times and that’s before I’m trying to limit my legs moving in order to maintain some semblance of sonic discretion. Despite effecting my best walk-like-a-robot gait in an effort to moderate the flex in that Euroflex it sounded like I was wearing a chip (crisp) packet for underwear connected to a megaphone: CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH. I’m well versed to our personal hyper-sensitivity to nappy noises and can generally disregard them but this really was obvious. My beloved’s face remained a study in neutrality as she stared doggedly at the TV. At least she didn’t turn it up. As I lowered myself down into my comfy chair my nappy played an oh-so-slightly muted version of the noise of an anesthetised donkey being lowered into a dumpster filled with cellophane. Picking up an adjacent mobile compute device I consulted my nappy dealer’s website and read the blurb on my new noisy pants. “Euroflex has the softness and feel of a latex condom and has a kind of rattle rather than a crinkle and is made from medical grade soft polyurethane and is known to outlast standard PVC material.” As an aside, this is a great example of a runaway sentence: the author has used far too many instances of the conjunction “and” in an attempt to grammatically glue together far too many disparate points. But back on track, let me draw your attention to the real crime of this sentence: “has a kind of rattle rather than a crinkle”. Firstly, I don’t think that’s true. In fact, I think it's complete bollocks. If they were constructed as an aluminium pot containing a hand full of cashew nuts they would rattle. These crinkle: a rapid staccato dry popping noise caused by friction and buckling of the pants material caused by me having anything greater than corpse-levels of physical movement. Secondly, it’s irrelevant. I don’t really care if it’s a rattle or a crinkle like I don’t care about the colour of the baseball bat that is beating me. It’s the fact that they are noisy at all that I object to. The simple fact is that it’s bad enough that I choose to wear nappies and having those nappies acoustically announce themselves loudly to bystanders every time I move is not helpful. I’ve taken to turning the TV up in the evening on my cloth nappy nights whilst hoping that a few wash cycles and the tincture of time will quieten these plastic pants down a little. And now I'm off to find a suitably sober pull-up nappy to wear to tomorrow's hot date with an angiogram assuming I'm not assaulted by common sense on the way to my nappy stash...

It seems that some of us are just wired that way. Some of us are just happier living in nappies but it can take us a long, painful time for us to figure that out. I got to the point where I’d spending 90% of my time obsessing about how long it would be before I could go back into a nappy and the remaining 10% IN a nappy, fretting about how much longer before I had to take it off again. Like yourself, I went 24/7 for a few months to see what would happen. For a start, it completely killed the fretting about being in or out of them. I was in them and that was that. I came OUT of nappies after about 2.5 months and then realized I was happier back in them. So back in early April 2019, I went back to them and have stayed there ever since. It’s hard for the spouses who never bargained on this happening but neither did I. PS: my experience is that I quickly confused becoming accustomed to using nappies with becoming dependent on them. In reality that process took a LOT longer and (for daytime at least) is still a work in progress. Good luck with it but don't be afraid to walk away from it if it doesn't work for you. It's a means to an end, not an end IMHO.

It’s an interesting question. I don’t think that wearing diapers of itself will necessarily increase urgency and frequency but there’s a lot of reasonable-quality evidence out there that “giving in” to urgency and frequency will over time make the problem worse. Of course diapers enable “giving in” because they are a garment in which one may urinate at will. I basically abandoned any efforts to hold my pee when I went 24/7 a bit over 8 years ago. I noticed that over time, I began to pee more frequently but in smaller volumes. I never experienced any urgency because I never tried to “hold on”. I'm not incontinent. During the day I could stay dry if I need to but it takes concentration and frequent trips to the bathroom. It's just easier to use my nappies. I suspect that if I just allowed my bladder to fill normally and voided into a nappy instead of a toilet there would be zero effect on my control. On the other hand, I must consider the possibility that my urgency/frequency is a function of advancing age and would be happening with or without nappies. My bedwetting however I put down 100% to nappy-habituation.