special lil kitty

I was in a spot, out of diapers and in the grocery store and just grabbed these thinking that they would be at least like the worst of other pullups i've ended up with in a pinch. no such luck. One episode of CSI after I put them on and my pants, couch and dress were soaked. Yuck. I'm incontinent and I've had to change cloths 3 times so far tonight - I'm pissed... in more than one way and got to wait for tommarow to get back to the store.

Big tapes! The idea of one set of them sounds cool, but I would like bigger tapes in general - even two or 3 with maby the botom two clear and the top one something cute like yellow or pink or blue so it is the one that shows. Small tapes just do not cut it on BIG babies.. I'm a 330 pounder and its hard to keep em stuck without a tight pair of grannie panties over the top which just spoils the experience if its Bambinos.

Potty training kids can be very funny sometimes and very proud - even want to show off 'Look I made a poo' (or do do) my son said 'stinker' in a very funny way 'commie commie, look i got a stinker'... dragging me to the potty to take a look. 'uh oh made a boo boo' No! I dun wanna No! mine! go way! dun no like ooo! not wappy wit ooo! when my neice was about 5 or 6, my mom took her to the grocery store. at the time there was this comercial where they would say "this is your brain' and show a frying pan and then 'this is your brain on drugs' and crack an egg and show it frying... when mom went to get the eggs, she screamed bloody murder in the grocery store "Grana, no! No! pleeeeeaaaaaassssseeee dont buy any more DRUGS!" that age group as a special gift for embarasing unsuspecting adults. Going to change my son in the bathroom, earlier age, MOM, MOM, are you going to change your bloody stinker too? or my brothers playing.. this isnt embarasing but.... "mom, mom, ronnie hit me over the head wit the bed!" (ben pushed ronnie, ronnie's head hit the bed) dad spills his beer "YOU need a bottle!" putters seem to always be putters as the question arises can a putter poot? and you can get some early big words or adult words depending on what mommie and daddy talk about... woogammin = programming (shush! daddy wus a woogammin now!) wer shundize uh = merchandise we reee pt = reciept waxus = taxes wer jush re = surjury (is dada do win wer jush re) wapple = scaple the list goes on... and of course each word has a story if they mention it - and they wuv too... I got 12 nieces.. lol Also, they love to tell adults and other childeren what not to do! Bad dada, you stinky poot! (even if its in the middle of a resturant and they cant know for shure you did it) THAT woman Stinks! looking at a fat man - Mom is he pregnant too?

Armed and dangerous baby here. I absolutely love my 9mm and my rifle. Baby like things go boom! Also, if only the state has guns how are the people to defend themselves from the state?

"Regarding the Iraq war, we have to stay there. We cannot allow the Islamic Facist to control the world supply of oil. We cannot allow the Islamic facist to acquire a nuclear weapon." Excuse me a minute, but it IS their oil - not ours and quite frankly they should be able to use it for anything they want - even if its just but loob because if they DID cut off trade with the major developed nations they would cut their own necks and collapse their own economies. There has to be right to self determination and invasion for natural resources is no better than Hitler minus the final solution (but i know quite a people around that would not mind making it a nuclear desert - in other words - final solution on a scale hitler could have only dreamed of). Also, with the US christian fascist around, do you really expect them to want to go to a gun fight with a knife? Lets keep in mind WHO is the only nation that has actually USED nukes. You got it, the US of A. Also, how do you define fascism? Often the definition is such that if you look at the US, it applies there too... lol Also, I'm as South Georgian, USA as you can get... before you call me something else for EXERCISING my right to free speech... lol Now about clinton and obama... sorry, they are not communist. They are no better than Bush. They will not actually do much different anyway. I don't like them either, so please don't associate them with us real Communist. They would not know Marxism if it bit em in the balls.

Um... What if they WANTED you to out them? there should have been the option... Yes, but only if they wanted me to.

I went to a place here a few days ago - Its called Diaper Depot and all they carry is different kinds of Diapers. Actually, thinking they were probably just a baby store, I had passed it up a few times before but that time I noticed a case of adult diapers in the window. I went in and waited behind another customer... after that customer left, I just plainly asked if they had any plastic backed adult diapers in an XL. It never crossed my mind to ask for anything else. She discussed the different choices with me - I told her I wanted some that wrapped around and had tapes. she went back and found me some slimlines. I never thought of calling them anything else - I've always called them diapers even when they were 'grandma's diapers'. I'm incontinent. I've never been any more shy about it than about buying panties - the only other name I've called them is 'happy pants'... a term that I use with my partner in public QUIETLY when I need to find a place to go change... as in 'i gotta deal with my happy pants'. To me being able to have diapers is very liberating, not just because I am also an AB, but because you do not have to deal with the fear of wetting yourself in public - which can be very stressful and used to give me panic attacks and keep me from hardly going out at all. I know if I spend any significant time out and about, I will end up at least wet. If my IBS is acting up bad, it can be a bit messy. Pads and such never felt secure enough. They did not give me the sense of confidence that a fully wrapped up bottom does - and if you leak out the side then it looks like you maby spillt something on you, sat down on something - or if its a hot and sweaty day... The shame leads to less acceptance on both sides - of incontinence and ab/dl. I do not recommend it. It should be no more unnatural and embarrassing than buying tampons. In fact, so many stores have products on the shelf because with the growing aging population more and more people NEED them. Its a fact of life. I would have educated the cashier politely on the spot - explained the difference "you are right, they are basically diapers but they are for adults and most people do not call them that. They are usually called (whatever you cal the here) and saying diapers for the adult products would be very embarrassing to some people." Chances are she did not really realize what they were. I can see the mistake with the pictures on the package. BTW - i do not know if anyone has thought of this - but babies NEED diapers, too. They are incontinent to varring degrees depending on age and development... just a thought.

Pet me! *meow* I don't think a fur would be offended... although i'm not sure how you would tell in public

This is very helpful, thank you. here is something that I wrote a while back: Twin souls evolving around each other, bound so tightly that they almost became a singularity of being – this was what me and my father were. Our experiences could not be separated, could not be torn one from another. With him I was safe. This is not a story of abuse, although it has its own particular sadness but rather of two people bound from the beginning through illness, suffering, physical pain and the constant threat of death – of eternal separation. The threat did not separate us at all. It never distanced us from one another. It only drew us in closer, dependant on each other in a way that I thought that if he ever passed away that I would soon follow as well. So, when I am asked, was there trauma in my childhood, the answer is of course, ‘yes’ but it is not the trauma that I’m most often used to hearing. He never touched me inappropriately – he wouldn’t have. In fact, he never hurt me in any way. He never once lifted a hand to me. In 1971, I was born. To some it was tragic that my mother had not aborted me. She had been advised to. During her pregnancy with me, something went wrong with the gas heater and when she was found she was in a coma. She remained in a coma two weeks. She was told that I would be born a vegetable. I wasn’t although I was born with a hip deformity. She and my Dad were told that I would be in a wheel chair all my life. About this, as about me being a vegetable, the Drs Where wrong. I’ve been told that the news distressed my mother and that she did not interact with me. My grandparents made an action to legally adopt me but my father wanted to keep me – his little monkey – he didn’t care if I might never walk – or talk. These things were just unknown. I was his baby, never my mothers. In this sense he carried me. Not just emotionally, but everywhere with him. He fed me. He changed me. I slept beside him at night for years. When I was not with him, I was with my grandmother. But, I never crawled. My father carried me as I had braces on my legs and halfway up my back. There was no ability to be apart from him. Eventually, out of belief in me, he became frustrated. As I understand it, one day he decided that as long as I had the braces, I would never learn to walk, so he started trying… over time he was able to get me to wobble about. My mother was always a distant person to me but I do not feel I missed her any more than someone who has went through I divorce. She was there – in that time I don’t know exactly how much. I have no early memories of her. My earliest memory of her is much later, on the phone, pushing me away. In her own way she was coping with another tragedy then – I know – more on that later. 1975, my grandmother had a stroke. This had a big impact on me. I was there. She had been upset with me over something that I cannot recall. She went to the bathroom and the next thing I knew she was crawling out on her knees. She threw up and collapsed. My brother mike was there. He called 911, I recall it clear as day and can see it plain as a waking nightmare, while I sat with her whipping her face and telling her I was sorry. The next time I saw her I could not understand what had happened at all. She was in ICU with her hair shaved off and head partially bandaged. My father lifted me up and I sat on the bed by her. I tried to show her my pretty little gold hoops daddy got me but she did not respond. They took me outside and told me she was dying, and that she was asleep. I didn’t understand as she did have her eyes open and blink but her face was blank. She did not die. I did not leave her in heart either. I would watch after her much of my life. She was mine like my dad was mine. I would be the only one capable of translating for her to adults because of the way that her speech was effected by the stoke. I would be the only one that could hold a conversation with her at all. She became a sort of playmate and living doll at the same time. I hate to say that, but in the sense that I made her shirts, made her lap blankets and bibs. I brushed her hair and made up her face and painted her nails. I fed her and later as the years went by I would bathe and change her, too for my grandfather. This was not crude, she had a nurse and the nurse taught me how to do these things for her. Between us there was a deep bond as well. When she finally passed I was an adult. She had actually been gone for a while mentally due to having other strokes over time. I did not feel this loss – not the way that I felt the stroke and on some level always felt that whatever it was I did wrong – had I not done it then maybe things would not have turned out this way. My brother had blamed me also. But, in 1976 a second tragedy happened. My father fell suddenly ill. Again, I was there. I did not blame myself this time. He seemed asleep on the floor in front of the TV as he did a lot and I’d simply laid down beside him and went to sleep. When my brother came home from school he noticed Dad didn’t look so good and tried to wake him. He was in a coma. His kidneys had failed. They took him away too. At this time my grandmother was still in the hospital ‘dying’ and now my dad was there, too – not expected to live. It was explained to me that they were ‘going to heaven together’ and I wanted to go, too. I knew my mom had said to me before, ‘you don’t eat, you will die’ – I stopped eating. I stayed with my grandfather – over the years I would spend perhaps the majority of my life with him – but during this time, under the stress, he was hospitalized as well. He had a heart attack. I was sent off to my grandma’s sister’s place down on the farm. I didn’t connect with her although she taught me to fish. So, I spent a lot of time with elders. I became comfortable mostly in the presence of the aged. I loved their stories and the things they knew and did. As a child I would never connect with other children – instead I would seek out old people in the neighborhood and go there – talk with them – learn from them what they knew. Listen to the stories of their lives – old people love to tell these and they love to have someone listen. I don’t think I suffered for not having young friends, not really. With elders I had a sense of trust and stability and the outside world, kids, schools seemed painful and chaotic. Children were cruel and afraid of me at the same time. In fact I will never forget my first day of school – never forget the boy on the playground that said ‘you walk like my grandma’. Before that I never realized that anything was ‘wrong’ with me. Later that same day my teacher caught me talking when I was not supposed to be. She spanked me in front of the whole class. I stopped talking – completely – altogether. In fact I would not talk in a school setting again for years and only to a few people away from school – my father – my special elders I found – and my cats. You might not believe me, but among other things I do speak cat as well. To this day my cats are constant companions. I have heard people say that they did not like cats because they were aloof or did not really show efection. My cats are not like that, in fact sometimes I have to push them away. My youngest is very jealous of the computer and of daddy and will try to get between me and it or me and him. they are a constant source of comfort for me. --------------------- note: special kitty is sometimes a 'baby fur' and i do recall from early childhood pretending to be a cat, even drinking out of the cat bowl and having my dad put down tuna in a bowl for me - and eating it with my kitty at the time. However, being a baby fur is more of a fantasy play FOR kitty... much like a child pretending to be a princess or a nurse. Special kitty also does like to pretend to be a princess and early on with her real daddy was dressed in frilly dresses with a tiara as he carried her around.

poem i made up in kindergarden- fire cracker in a cracker bit in to it go boom and another from then cob webs in the carborator mom got the broom weep them down putty wooty putty pussy fuzzy muzzy momies muzzy -- MEOW! (i overheard some things my much older brothers said - ok.. i know thats a strange one) explination on the carborator - my dad was working on the car, my mom was cleanin down the cob webs and the two words sounded the same to me in a funny way at the time... i went around a lot saying 'car bor ator, car bo web, cor bo web cob oh web something simular with fire cracker and cracker .. fire cracker wire wacker white wacker white cracker (btw - dont be ofended, i was in the south and we were going through intergration)

This is something that I have been afraid to discuss with my psych. It’s not just ‘liking to play a baby’ for me. I have heard all these terms applied here. My understanding is that regression and age play are voluntary and dissociation is often not voluntary and can involved different personalities. Now, Dissociate identity disorder seems different in that they ‘are’ different personalities. With what happens to me, something of “I

twwoo troooo i say sawee to daddie . he wook me tu da stowar dat day un he got me some pretti pretti lacies for mi! he got me sum satins un some pink clowf un some crincle wiggle diapees dat got pwastic backun un um. *baby hugs*

oh poo. i did not get it... think i underqualified in the adult world. Once i got what it was do'in i get 6/6...too fast. I slow.

Meanie! Pwaaayyy nice! Juz cause it gits oo off dones NOt mean it gets everyone off. World is big. People got many kinks. For some people being AB is not a kick at all. I do not get sexual when I regress... for me it is part of the point... its safe feeling. I was pointing out how it might not be that way for everyone - but don't attack someone like that.... bad bad!

Heh, lots of parents have their own kinks n things - I know. Not only am I am mom, I'm AB and so is MY mom When i told her as a teenager that I thought i might be a lesbian, she replied, 'so, you want me to introduce you to a few I know?' Te he But then again she is an artist