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I agree.

Dang, no

I was 7 years old when I wanted back in diapers, all through my childhood I did everything I could think of to be put back into diapers, when I turned 16 I purchased my very first case of diapers, when I was 18 I purchased my first bag of adult diapers and started my life over wearing diapers as often as I could, by the time I was 20 I had been married and divorced and back into the dating scenario, All the while I was wanting to have the need to wear diapers, my second wife knew of my diapers after out 3rd date, after we married I told her of my desires to need to wear diapers, she did not disaprove but in fact encouraged me to wear diapers all the time, by our second year of marriage I was diapered 24/7 and was quite adept to wetting my diaper to the point of little control of when it happened, my wife of course took notice of this and decided she liked the idea I now needed to wear diapers due to my wetting. It was only after I was caught in a messy diaper one to many times by my wife that she said we needed to talk, so we did talk and the results of that talk was she tossed any and all my underwear out in the trash and I was to wear diapers 24/7 and could only pee and poop in my diaper, no useing the toilet.

If you do not mind being the negative center of attention and you want to be as different as possible then go right ahead and expose your diaper as best as you can. I saw something similar on south park when Mr garrison was trying to get fired for being gay. To me the community is something that is not accepted by the masses and should remain within the community. Now something like first Friday, Halloween, Diaper con, or a local ABDL party or camp out would be a socially acceptable way to publicly display your diaper. I have a friend who quite obviously wears a super crinkly and bulky diaper under his warm-ups or sweat pants and goes out running his errands. He says he doesn't care if people know, but knowing and showing are two different things. I feel that openly displaying your diaper says alot about the person's mind set and shows poor judgement driven by sexual urge.

Someone might be willing to pay to change your diaper.

((I was

Why hasn't Donald Trump been inpeached yet?

The Family Babies -- Chapter 39 -- The Rest of the Story -- Part One GLORIA Ever since I was able to hold a pencil, I’ve wanted to write. Essay assignments in school were a joy for me. I always kept a journal. That first summer at Camp Celebration, I wrote my first longer story, about the adventures of a girl much like myself, who had to overcome being embarrassed about having to wear diapers. As the three of us, Teddy, Linda, and I, went through fifth and sixth grades, then on to Junior High School, I took advantage of every opportunity to write. I wrote for the school newspaper in both Junior High and High School. I wrote for the High School literary magazine. I was lucky enough to have a story published in American Girl magazine when I was a junior in high school. A college course in children’s literature got me interested in writing for kids. I discovered I had a talent for writing in a way kids related to. I learned to write stories that both entertained kids and also taught them life lessons. Most of my stories have been about kids who were different in some significant way from others. Of course, I’ve written about diapered kids. But I’ve also written about kids who are deaf, blind, or disabled in some other way. One of my characters is autistic, and another has Asperger’s syndrome. Several have been kids of way above average intelligence who’ve had trouble fitting in with others. Not every book has been a huge success, and I’m certainly no JK Rowling. I’ve made a good living, though, and I’ve felt blessed to be able to be so well paid for doing something I love so much. My husband shares my love of writing. Love of writing is what brought us together. You’ve heard the story of how I finally came to accept that I couldn’t be like other kids, but needed to learn to live with the fact that I had to wear diapers. There was no question that I’d wear diapers to school in fifth grade. My incontinence had increased to the point where it was pretty nearly complete, I’d proven I could do well in a class with “normal” kids (as had Teddy, Linda, and Susan), and whatever stigma had been attached to wearing diapers had pretty much gone away. We diapered kids were at the top of our class in every subject, and we got along well with just about everyone. Making us the object of ridicule wouldn’t have made much sense to anyone who knew us. We did, of course, have to endure some good-natured teasing when one of us messed a diaper in class. Usually, I had enough warning so that I could leave the room before I actually pooped. But not always. I’d gotten over being mortified by incidents like that in fourth grade, and pooping in the presence of others never bothered me again. The chlorophyll tablets we all took every day helped keep us from smelling really awful. In fact, the smell from other kids passing gas (you know how pre-teens, especially boys can be) was a lot worse than anything that wafted up from our diapers. Through fifth grade, I still looked forward to gaining enough control to not have to wear diapers all the time. It didn’t happen. In fact, I never had the feeling of a full bladder anymore. Mine just seemed to empty as soon as there was anything in it. Often, I didn’t even know I was wetting. The warmth of the pee or the squishy feeling of a nearly full diaper would be my only signs. As I’ve already said, I didn’t have much warning when I was going to poop either. It just sort of happened. Sometimes only part of the load would come out on its own, and I’d reflexively push out the rest. There was a time when the grunting and funny faces that sometimes accompanied that process bothered me a lot. I remember scolding my cousin Teddy when he un-selfconsciously loaded his diaper in a public place. As I got older, though, I became more accepting of what couldn’t be helped. And life got to be a whole lot more fun. Linda, more than anyone else, helped me lighten up. She had a wicked sense of humor, and she loved to tell jokes and pull stunts at her own expense, and sometimes at ours. The Christmas we were in fifth grade, Linda bought novelty plastic pants for me, Teddy, Susan, and herself. Each of us had our own color: pastel green for Linda, lavender for Susan, yellow for Teddy, and pink for me. What made these plastic pants funny was a duplicate of a bank stamp that said “For Deposit Only” on the seat of each pair. We all wore our new plastic pants, in plain sight with nothing over them, at a Christmas gathering of all our families. My dad, an inveterate practical joker, thought they were hilarious. My mom and Teddy’s dad wanted plastic pants just like them. (They were sister and brother, you’ll remember, with lifelong wetting problems of their own.) Linda’s Christmas gift marked the beginning of my novelty plastic pants collection. I had so much fun with that first pair that people soon started looking for other novelty plastic pants to give me for birthdays, for Christmas, or for no good reason at all. I soon had plastic pants in a rainbow of colors with a variety of artwork and clever sayings: “There’ll be some changes made” read one’ Another read “Uh oh!” A pretty pink pair showed a picture of a toddler with the inscription “Daddy’s diapered darling.” My dad smiled at that pair, but I think he liked the yellow pair that read “Loading Zone” best. I ended up with more than a dozen pairs of novelty plastic pants. I still have them all, and sometimes I wear a pair, just for fun. I’ve always been able to become so fully absorbed in whatever I’m doing that I forget about everything else. A lot of people are that way. Most of them, though, have normal plumbing that gives them an unmistakeable reminder when it’s time to go potty. I, of course, didn’t have that warning system. I went through a time in fifth and sixth grades when I started having diaper leaks again, because I’d forget to ask to have my diaper changed. Often, I didn’t even notice that I’d leaked until someone told me about it. I’d say something like “Gee, I guess I just forgot,” and go find my mom or dad. Mom and dad were becoming a little annoyed about wet marks on furniture. Even though I was ten years old, mom started checking my diapers again, just like she had when I was three years old. I promised to try harder to avoid leaks if she’d stop embarrassing me by checking my diapers all the time -- it was getting annoying, especially when we were visiting people, and she’d call to me to come and have my diaper checked. Mom promised to stop checking my diapers when I proved I could be responsible for avoiding leaks. It took six months, but I finally stayed leak free enough to convince her that I could be trusted to come for a diaper change when I needed one. My older brothers had never learned to change diapers, and didn’t want to. Only once, when my diaper was completely soaked and no one else was home, did one of my brothers attempt to change me. He stuck himself four or five times and took so long getting the diapers on that I wet again and he had to start all over. The final result wasn’t professional, to say the least, but I was able to go several hours before I needed another change, and by that time dad was home. Wearing diapers didn’t keep me from enjoying sleepovers. Other girls (some of them wore diapers for bedwetting) enjoyed coming to my house, and I was welcome, diapers and all, at theirs. I always brought my sleeping bag or a plastic sheet for the bed. Some of my girlfriends admitted curiosity about wearing diapers, and I didn’t mind talking about what it was like. Others loved me, but were kind of grossed out by the diapers, especially the messy ones. There would usually be at least one messy one on an overnight visit, sometimes two. My friends’ mothers were always kind, although sometimes a little nervous about changing my diapers. I was friendly enough with some of the girls that, with their mothers’ permission, I let them watch while I had my diapers changed. I wanted them to see that it was really no big deal. Teddy, Linda, and I had worn diapers with button fasteners during our first summer at Camp Celebration. The buttons meant we didn’t have to deal with pins and could, therefore, change our own diapers. Problem was, those button on diapers never fit very well. So all of us went back to having our diapers changed by parents, the school nurse, or Teddy’s older sister Patty. By the time we were twelve, we could do a fair job of changing each other’s diapers, but managing to pin a diaper on ourselves and get a good fit was a skill we still hadn’t mastered. Finally, at the age of 14, I managed to do a decent job of changing my own diaper. Although he was nine months older than I, Teddy couldn’t change his own diapers until nearly a year after I could. Linda never really did manage to change her own diapers, because she was in a wheel chair and didn’t have the mobility to do the job. She could change Teddy’s diapers, though, or mine, or Susan’s as well as anyone else. Everywhere we went, we needed to carry a diaper bag. Our bags didn’t have “Diapers” written on the outside, and I’m pretty sure many people never even thought about what the bags were for. Mine looked a lot like a large purse. I reached puberty later than most girls. I was nearly sixteen when I experienced my first menstruation. Mom and I had talked about what having a period would be like, but still I was surprised by the pink stains I found in my diaper one morning. Linda had reached puberty more than two years before I had, and Susan had her first period about the same time I did. The three of us had a bond, now, that Teddy couldn’t be part of. He, of course, did experience the normal wet dreams that every boy has. Because he wore diapers, though, Teddy never “starched his sheets” like most boys did. I felt a little sorry for Teddy sometimes, because all of his “diaper buddies” were girls. I wished he had a guy friend who wore diapers. Because my Mom had managed to get daytime dry (pretty much, anyway) sometime during sixth grade, I thought I would, too. But it never happened, not in sixth grade or at any time after. I got to where I had pretty good bowel control, and I did start pooping in the toilet pretty often. But heavy urinary incontinence persisted. Finally, I accepted that fact. When you’ve worn diapers as long as we had, having to wear them to high school and college is less of a big deal than it would be for someone who’d become incontinent later on. Sure, there were some who avoided us, not wanting to associate with people who wore diapers. But they were relatively few in number. Linda, to my knowledge, never dated anyone but Teddy. Susan and I, though, had our share of dates. The subject of diapers usually came up about the second or third time we dated a boy. My dad joked that any boy who wanted to get into our pants was in for an unusual experience. A few boys certainly expressed interest in getting my diapers off. Finally, in my freshman year in college, I did decide to get intimate with a boy I was dating. It was a little awkward, and I did wet the pad I was lying on, but the milestone of surendering my virginity was a happy, not a traumatic experience. That boy and Gil are the only two sexual partners I’ve had. I never felt any need to sleep around. Gil and I got serious about each other very quickly. It seemed right then, though, and it still seems right now. I’m too private a person to discuss the details of our physical relationship. Let’s just say that diapers have never been a hindrance to sexual pleasure. Quite the contrary! Gil’s a gifted, creative lover. I’ll let your imagination figure out what that means. Our marriage was blessed with twin sons, Phil and Gil Jr. Intelligent, inquisitive, and adventurous, the boys were a handful as they were growing up. Both learned to read early and became accomplished storytellers almost from the time they began talking. We think writing will be part of both boys' future in some way, althouh neither has yet chosen a career. Neither boy inherited my incontinence problem. Both were potty trained right around two years of age. They were dry at night almost as early. Although they get along well with their diapered cousins, neither Gil nor Phil has ever expressed the slightest interest in wearing diapers again themselves. When I once wanted to diaper them for a long car trip, both protested so loudly I had to give in. They stayed dry all through the trip. Gil and I have enjoyed our life together, and now that the boys are both away at college, we find ourselves entering a new chapter of our lives. We're looking forward to whatever adventures that chapter brings. SUSAN I still wonder what might have happened if I hadn't decided to continue the diaper experiment that began on the first Camp Celebration visiting day the summer I was eight years old. I hadn't worn a diaper since I was three, and I wasn't thrilled about wearing one so that Dad wouldn't have to stop for a potty break on the way to camp. But Mom had diapered herself, and I really wanted to see how Teddy, Gloria, and Linda were getting along at camp, so I let Mom diaper me. From the moment I climbed down from the changing table, I found myself delighted by the experience of being in diapers again. Delighted -- and just a little embarrassed. I had forgotten how comfy diapers could feel. I had also forgotten how convenient it was to be able to pee or poop anywhere, anytime you felt the need. I surprised myself by asking Mom and Dad if I could wear diapers all summer. They surprised me by agreeing to my request. They recognized that I wanted the kind of attention wearing diapers had always brought to my brother. Mom and Dad gave me the full treatment and I loved it! After Teddy, Gloria, and Linda went to camp, I enjoyed all the extra attention being diapered made necessary. I was Mom and Dad's special kid, and that felt just great. I have to admit I especially enjoyed pooping my diapers, not only because I liked how it felt, but also because of the attention i received every time I filled a diaper. I think you'll admit that an eight year old girl (I looked more like 4 or 5) pushing a load of poop out into a diaper is a sight that draws attention. Never once was I scolded, rididuled, or even teased for loading up my diaper at inconvenient times. I was, though, awarded the tile of "super duper pooper." Remembering those first messy diapers, I guess you could say I earned the title. It took a while for me to believe that wearing diapers just because I wanted to had not caused the devastating infection that ruined my summer and changed my life forever. My friend Laurie was the first to become ill. Within days, most of the kids in the neighborhood were running fevers and experiencing total, painful incontinence, The bacteria that had caused the infection was identified eventually, but not until the epidemic had run its course. By then, most of the neighborhood kids had regained bladder and bowel control and were out of diapers again. Two of us, though, never did regain control. My friend Laurie and I, senior citizens now, are still in diapers. I notice that the number of diapered people seems to be growng as we age. We're not as much of a curiosity anymore. It wasn't too long before life in diapers began to feel normal. There is more to life, after all, than peeing and pooping, as my sister-in-law has always maintained. I did all the things other girls did. Since I needed to have my diapers changed less than half as often as other girls went to the bathroom, I didn't even feel inconvenienced. The following summer, when Teddy, Linda, and Gloria went back to Camp Celbration, I went with them. Despite the fact that I fit in well with "normal" kids, it was nice to be in an environment where most people wore diapers. I must admit, though, that the morning diaper smell in a cabin where a dozen girls, nine of them in diapers, lived could be pretty overwhelming. I became fascinated with science while I was still in grade school. By the time I reached high school, I knew I wanted a career in medicine. I suppose it was natural that I'd end up a pediatric urologist. My own situation, after all, made a fascinating case study. Diapers had never kept me from having an active social life -- some guys found the fact that I wore diapers an incredible turn on, and one or two wanted to be diapered themselves. I didn't marry, though, until after 35. Joe's also a pediatrician. We're in practice together. Somehow we've managed to share both parenting and medicine and make it all work. It's taken planning, but it's been worth it. Now that the kids are a little older, life is a bit less hectic. If you've been following the story, you know that two of our three kids are growing up incontinent. The fact that they weren't born until I was in my 40's, combined with my family history and Joe's -- he's not incontinent now but he was as a kid, and others in his family have bladder and bowel control problems -- greatly increased the likelihood that they would be incontinent. We knew it could happen. If you met little Joe and Patty, I think you'd agree they're great kids. You'd have to notice how bright and how friendly both of them are, how energetic and how involved in school and their other activities. You might or might not notice that they wear diapers. If you did notice, I doubt it would bother you. We had trouble potty training our third child, Kevin. He showed all the physical signs of readiness by the time he was two. He'd wake up dry from naps, and he'd sometimes flood a diaper after having stayed dry for several hours. But Kevin showed no enthusiasm at all for learning to use the toilet. We had wondered if he would. Kevin saw me, his brother, and his sister in diapers every day. As far as he was concerned, it just made sense to "go" in your diaper and, when the diaper became uncomfortable, make it known either by asking, squirming, or fussing that you wanted to have it changed. Joe tried to show Kevin how easy and how much fun it is to use the potty and wear "big boy" underpants instead of diapers. Kevin enjoyed "target practice," scoring lots of hits on cheerios Joe floated in the toilet. He was less than enthusiastic, though, about holding his urine until he could make it to the toilet. "It's just too much trouble!" Kevin would complain when he came to be changed out of wet,or even messy pants. Sometimes Kevin "just forgot" and didn't even try to go potty. "It's not fair!" Kevin would say. "Joe and Patty don't have to go potty. Neither does Mommy. Why should Daddy and I be the only ones?" All of us tried to help Kevin understand that Joe, Patty, and I couldn't control our wetting and pooping, and that we had all thought, at one time, that it wasn't fair that we had to wear diapers. Kevin was nearly five before he even began to understand that being potty trained was a good thing. He potty trained quickly when he learned he wouldn't be allowed to wear diapers to school. Even today, though, at nearly ten, Kevin asks to be diapered whenever he sees an oppportunity. So far, we haven't refused when he's asked, and we don't think we will. We figure he'll either outgrow the desire or, if he doesn't outgrow it, integrate diaper wearing into his life without falling victim to embarrassment or shame. Both Joe and Patty are amazingly well adjusted kids. They went through the same disappointments and struggles all of the incontinents in our family experienced, though, and survived them very nicely. Little Joe was a bit slow to notice that most of his friends and cousins weren't in diapers anymore. Joe has always adored his cousin Claire, who, of course, has always been in diapers. She likes him a lot, too, and, despite the difference in their ages, the two have been good buddies. When it came close to time for him to start kindergarten, Joe Senior and I had "the talk" with Little Joe. Little Joe was stunned, of course, like all of us had been when we first discovered we were different from other kids. He recovered quickly, though, and never went through the diaper hating depression that his Uncle Teddy, Aunt Gloria, and I had experienced. When the teasing started, Little Joe stood up to it and never allowed himself to be bullied. Turns out the biggest teaser was a bedwetter himself. Go figure. From before the time she could walk, Patty has loved pretty things. As her Dad says, Patty is all girl. We're both thrilled that she is. When her friends began wearing "big girl" underwear, Patty naturally asked if she could have some of her own. We bought several pairs, of course, and made sure they'd fit nicely over her diapers. Patty insisted on trying to be potty trained like her friends. To say she was diappointed when she had no success would be a huge understatement. We had to have "the talk" with Patty when she was only three. By the time she was ready for kindergarten, Patty had recovered fully from her disappointment. She wore her diapers with no shame or embarrassment. She also had become quite expert at being able to choose clothes that look great on her. Like her brother -- well, like all the incontinents in the family -- Patty had to experience teasing because she wore diapers. She handled the teasing with amazing poise and grace, though, and it stopped before long. Joe and Patty have both enjoyed summers at Camp Celebration since they were old enough to go. Kevin would like to go with them, and we've heard that new owners are planning to allow non-disabled kids to come to camp. So Kevin may get his wish. I don't know if kids are better off with older parents like Joe and me, but I do know that we've enjoyed every phase of their growing up. We'll have more than enough money set aside for college for all of them, and we're healthy enough, we think, to be around long enough to see them launched on their careers and starting their own families. It's likely, of course, that one or more of their kids will have to live with long term incontinence. We don't see that as much of a problem, though. And we think our kids would agree.