Little Sherri

We tracked him down - he was supposed to fly out Thursday but ended up flying out yesterday. He spent two days at the airport because of flight cancellations, and he said that cellular and wifi was in and out even there. He's due to land here in a couple of hours. He did not pick a good week for his first trip to the Gold Coast!

https://littlekeepersleeper.com/ is one of them - they mostly show kids wearing the items, but they go up to 265 lbs on the sizing charts, so they are available for adults. Mainly aimed at the special needs market, to prevent undressing or diaper tampering. Those hoodies et al are cool, though. I do like the idea of wearing a onesie that is fastened from the back, and that can't be opened without help, however I don't think my wife would want to play those games, although you never now - she does like being in charge, just not of my diapers. She did buy me a onesie, but it's a front zip one.

InControl BeDry, and it is being pretty dry, thus far, but I just put it on.

Diapered Sundays are the best Sundays!

That's interesting - I generally find cloth diapers to be pretty bulletproof. One thing they sometimes do not contend as well with is a sudden flood - a cloth diaper's notable capacity stems from the way they eventually evenly distribute their workload, becoming nearly as wet on your sides as they are at ground zero. So a deluge can run through the diaper and cause ponding in your plastic pants that, if it doesn't get a chance to be wicked up again by the diaper, can cause catastrophic leakage, if you shift positions, stand up, or compress the puddle up against a leg elastic suddenly. I like cloth diapers but find them a lot of work, and too bulky to wear anywhere but around the house, so I don't use them as much as I probably should, from a fiscal perspective. I've said this before elsewhere, but I'm also weirdly self-conscious about sitting next to my wife in just a cloth diaper and plastic pants, whereas I wear disposables in front of her pretty much everyday.

You wonder, when people encounter two and two and two often enough, will they eventually come up with six? The case in point today is related to my daughter's friends, who were due over at our house at an inexact time. I was doing my usual Saturday cleaning routine, which, somewhat ironically, involves the toilets being scrubbed by the person who uses them the least, arguably. I didn't use them at all there, for a stretch. Well, that's not strictly true - they were employed during cleanup operations. I shall say no more about that. Where was I? Yes, so I was cleaning the bathrooms, wearing my usual "disposable attire" of an old t-shirt and a diaper, in this case a Rearz Active Air that I had slept in, and that was about due for the bin. A notation on that: having consumed some excellent Belgian beers last night, I drifted seamlessly into an alcohol-induced coma, only to wake up feeling a trickle at my hip - Egad! I'd started peeing while I was on my side, but was instantly ejected from my dreams, despite the prodigious load of monk-crafted anesthetic in my blood. I rolled straight onto my back, and finished the transfer, before feeling around to see if I had done any damage. There was the slightest spot on the sheet, so I dragged an undershirt out of a drawer next to my bed, and slept with it under me, on the spot, and by morning, it was indetectable. So, it was good to prove out that I still have my reflexes about me, most of the time; apparently, my weeing over and through my diaper at that cottage last summer was an anomaly. This bolsters my suspicion that when I "wet the bed" (wet my nappy), and don't remember doing it, I am still drifting slightly up the consciousness column, towards the surface - there is some reptilian awareness at play, even though I often have no memory of these events, now. But back to that alluring mental picture I was painting, of a pasty, pudgy middle-aged man, scrubbing toilets in a soggy diaper; my wife suggested I pull some pants on, because my daughter's friends were due at some point, so I did that. After blessing the porcelain thrones, I had a thought: I needed to empty my diaper can, and it would be better to do that before the company came. So, rather than vacuuming next, I took a white kitchen bag that I already had with me, to empty the bathroom rubbish bins, and I lobbed about 10 adult nappies, in a riot of colours, into the bag, which then weighed about as much as an Australian Shepherd. I was carrying it towards the door, to head out to the garage, when in walked the anticipated friends, one of whom then went to give me a slightly awkward hug around the bag I was carrying. I swung it aside, gave her a half-hug, shook hands with the other friend, then said, "I'm just running the trash out to the garage, be right back!", before making a hasty exit, in an attempt to avoid small talk, or, running into their moms, whom I knew would be not far behind them, and wanting to talk to my wife, more than to me. I had a big purple Critter Caboose panda, and some blue and yellow Lil' Monsters characters staring at me through the translucent white plastic bag, and also concerns that it might have a funk about it that would elude me, accustomed, as I am, to nappy-related scents, in a way that presumably most outside of the medical professions, or childcare settings, are not. I managed to get to the garage and deposit the bag before having to chat with, or hug, anyone else, but I was still wearing a somewhat bulky diaper under track pants, and now the mothers of the girls who were being dropped off, were standing on the stairs, chatting with my wife. At least Active Airs don't make crunch-crinkle-crunch noises when you walk. I said my hellos, then said I was dressed down due to tidying up, and that I would go change, and rejoin the conversation. I walked past them, and upstairs, only to find my daughter, in the company of her friends, rummaging through a laundry basket that they had overturned on our guest bed, presumably looking for an article that someone wanted to borrow, or that needed to be returned. Right as I walked past the room, one of her friends, whom I have known for a decade, said, "Who's giant baby shirts are these, anyway?" I fairly leapt past the doorway, suddenly very self-conscious of my not-quite-invisible diaper, and, not wanting to be on display during the conversation around what were, clearly, a couple of my diaper shirts/onesies. My daughter said, nonchalantly, "They're my dad's...", and her friend said, "He wears baby shirts?", to which she replied, "He wears them when he does like work around the house, so he doesn't get, you know, plumber's crack." "Oh," she responded, "I've never heard of that." I don't know if she meant she's never heard of someone wearing "baby shirts" before, or if she meant she's never heard of "Plumber's crack", but I would have given my daughter $20, if I had it handy - it was a good answer. But then taken it back for, you know, overturning a laundry basket in front of her friends. It's a rare find in the "public" laundry stream, but there could have been plastic pants in there, or even a cloth diaper. Murphy's Law sometimes works that way. But now I wonder... I brushed past them at the door with a translucent Santa sack full of diapers, while wearing a diaper under slightly snug pants, and then, moments later, they were presented with a coupe of diaper shirts randomly enmeshed with the household laundry, that they were told were mine. Two... plus two... plus two... did anyone come up with six...?

Crikey! That's some excavation! In a related story - and I'm not making this up - we haven't heard from my colleague who brought his daughter there for school; a lady we both work with was texting me today and asking if I'd heard anything from him, and the last message I got was from Tuesday. So if you encounter a tall bald guy with a Canadian accent, wandering around looking confused, let me know. He may be wearing an Edmonton Oilers hat, if he didn't lose it in the storm.

I'd put myself in that category, @Nckearney. I'm on the bigger side, I'm married, I have kids, I definitely have a "dad bod". My wife sorta accepts my diapers - she puts up with me wearing them (been 24/7 for 6 years), although she's not into it. And, I like sports - I probably watch more hockey than any other sport, because that is required by law here (Canada), but I also like baseball, NFL, and I don't mind watching golf.

We are thinking about you, @oznl, safe in the knowledge that whatever happens to you, if you survive, it will be hilariously recounted for our entertainment. Stay safe!

The only one I can think of that comes close would be the Bambino Magnifico. It is one of their higher-capacity diapers, and it has stretchy sides. I don't think it quite matches the Rearz Mega Inspire or Safari, or the vaunted MegaMax, but it's been a while since I've worn one, as Bambino no longer ships to my corner of the world (Canada). But I recall being impressed with them at the time. They are plastic-backed, with a hook/loop fastening system, but they have stretchy sides in that material that the baby disposables use for their wings.

I'm waiting for something like this to befall me - my "wall of diapers" is in the same room in the basement where the heating system is located. I travel for business, so inevitably, I'm sure that if something blows up, it's going to happen while I am away. Hopefully nobody googles what "LM11" or "Rearz" is. Not that it matters - I generally concur that most tradespeople are professional, and will keep their opinions to themselves, but, I am also related to some medical professionals, so I know that while they keep things anonymous, they do talk amongst themselves, if you, say, show up at the ER is a jam jar wedged in an uncomfortable place, and a story about having slipped on the stairs...

Happy Birthday, Mikey's Mom!

That movie completely eluded me - I've never heard of it, and I am from (and in) Canada. What's the context? He's dying or something?

@LilRugrat, thinking about you right now! I'm sorry that you are going through this, but there is light at the end of the tunnel, and it's not a train. I have a family member who has a fistula, and a family member who had a colostomy, and had it reversed years later - you can get through this, it doesn't change who you are, it will just change how you live - for the better, God willing. PM me anytime if you want to talk about it. It's just like diapers, in a way - some view them as a curse, some view them as a tool to take control of their lives. As to you forgiving your abuser, that is something you do for yourself, more than anything else. Anger, rage, hatred - these things can turn you to stone inside, or become cancerous. I know a little about this - not nearly to the level you've experienced, but I am looking after the alcoholic stepfather who abused me physically and emotionally as a kid, and who humiliated me in front of my family, yelling and waving one of my homemade diapers around, when I was 13 years old. I hated him for 20 years, but I realized I was only punishing myself, he didn't care, and it was preventing me from having a relationship with my mother. I put it behind me, and I am better off for it. Forgiving isn't the same as forgetting; forgiving is something you do for yourself, because you deserve to live in peace, and he shouldn't have any more power over you - the power becomes yours. You have been through so much; you deserve to enjoy your life, and the people you have around you who care about you and lift you up. Look after yourself, and reach out any time.

I nearly, nearly made a fateful decision last night, and I suspect it is related to, A) my subconscious having a sense of humour (surely it must?), and, B ) my experiment from last week. And, C), something off with the procedures at a restaurant. I woke up, tossing and turning, uncomfortable, not sure why... there was one nightlight on in the executive suites, but the overhead fluorescents were dark, when I had this thought... "Oh, this again, I have to go to the bathroom. Remember yesterday's interrupted sleep, where I thought I was still wearing a maxed-out diaper, meanwhile, I was in a brand new Super Diaper, which I didn't realize until I got up out of bed. Think... what do I have on? Oh, right, a nearly-new BeDry Night, so, another Super Diaper in its prime. Just go, and then go back to sleep, dummy..." So, I gave the order, not realizing initially that the department that had made the request was... the #2 department. THEN, I thought, wait, all this fuss is about a fart? Oh for the love of... sigh. Fine. Go. Then, thankfully, that one low-level manager in that department that I trust, and who should be promoted, raised one more flag... "Uh, this seems to be less gaseous, and possibly more liquid in nature... are we sure we want to proceed...?" NO! I slammed on the brakes, all the lights came on in the C-suites, and I ran to the bathroom, where I spent 45 minutes. I'll spare everyone the details, which even I don't want to recount, but, I might be shopping for a mattress, and/or a spouse, today, were I to have taken the other road. I can't help but suspect that going in nappies for about 5 days recently, may have lowered some deep-seated inhibitions that should maybe be dialed back up, in the face of ill-prepared appetizers (I am looking at you, calamari...) Such are the caveats one must attach, when entering into conversations about, "So, you want to wear diapers recreationally, do you...?"

Hi, @submissivepatient - you've really been down a rough road here, and I am sensing an anhedonia (inability to experience joy) that sounds nearly, if not, clinical levels. Nothing chipper that I say here is likely going to help much; you say you aren't talking to anyone and are avoiding your doctors, but there may be a biochemical imbalance contributing to your reaction to what are, inarguably, bleak circumstances. I would recommend talking to someone - a therapist, a doctor, a grief counsellor - about how you're feeling, because spending the rest of your life under a cloud would be, in my opinion, a wasted opportunity. We only live once, as far as we can confirm. And you are 62 years old - you still have a lot of runway out ahead of you. My dad is 90; he lost my mom two years ago, and at the same time, was forced by medical circumstance to move into an assisted living facility. We thought he might end up as one of those fateful cases where one senior passes, and their partner passes shortly afterwards, but he has defied our expectations, and is making friends, watching movies and hockey games, drinking wine, and generally living out whatever time he has left. However, he is not clinically depressed. My point is, you could live a whole other life in the time between now, and when you run out of time. Don't close the door on your potential - reach out to someone. There is good you can do in the world, fun to be had, flavours to be experienced, diapers yet to be worn (if that's your thing..). I wish you all the best.

I had a weird dream last night, so notable that I got up, and made myself an incomprehensible (in the cold light of day) note in my phone, but although I typed gibberish at 4 AM, it's enough to trigger a memory of what compelled me to do so: I woke up, and then I was wrestling with the fact that I had to pee, but, the plot went, I'd gone to bed in a very wet Crinklz that I'd had on for a good part of the latter half of yesterday. I kept rolling onto my back to wet, and then stopping myself - nope, diaper not up to this, abort... and then I'd try to fall back asleep, illogically, as though my need to pee would somehow go away; maybe my body would pull the moisture back into itself. But getting up to change my diaper... too much effort... I'd be awake... roll, roll, roll... Eventually, it became too much, and groggy, I stumbled over to the bathroom, possibly generating confusion in my spouse, and the dog, because I almost never get up in the middle of the night to go pee. I got in there, dimmed the lights to their lowest setting, went over to the toilet... and then became awake enough to realize that I wasn't wearing that sodden Crinklz I had dreamt I was still in; I'd binned it when I took a shower before bed. I was in a perfectly capable and perfectly dry, Mega Inspire+. I turned, and shuffled back to bed, wetting myself as a I went, and then I typed the note on my phone, after pawing at it like a monkey, because it wouldn't unlock. Pacifier, darkness, facial recognition Kryptonite. Code. Gibberish note to self. Sleep.

Wow, okay I'm texting him that information. Thank you.

How's the cyclone situation, @oznl? I have a colleague who's there for two weeks (Gold Coast), and he's just about to experience his first cyclone with Alfred.

Been 24/7 for coming up on 6 years now, so I wear everywhere, pretty much, outside of when I'm swimming, basically - I haven't found a swim diaper that doesn't look like someone's grandmother's knickers, yet.

This is awesome, @CuriousForPadding. I'm always impressed and envious of your relationship - she's a keeper! My wife is okay with my having three diaper drawers in our bedroom, basically: one is for white disposables, and one is for prints/colours - they are both in a highboy dresser that I use as a bedside table. I have a third drawer in an armoire that contains my cloth diapers and plastic pants. There is a clear box on our bathroom counter with my diaper pins in it - she raids those all the time. I once showed up at a Santa Clause parade, to find about 20 kids with badges pinned to their jackets, with my diaper pins. I also have two adjacent shelves in the basement, where my cases of diapers are stacked - I have around 10 cases in stock, generally, with a half dozen or so being open. My system consists of "going shopping" about once every ten days or so, usually with a laundry basket, down in the basement, and I try to estimate what my diaper requirements will be for the coming ten days or so. Then, I pick out a bunch of practical daytime diapers, and a bunch of heavy duty overnight diapers, in a mix of printed and white. To those, I add a few cloth-backed diapers: a couple to a few Active Air's, and a couple of Tena slim diapers and Tranquility ATN's as "fill-in" diapers when I have a few hours to kill before I can take a shower and put something decent on again. Then, I select a couple of "special occasion" diapers, indulgences like the Rearz Daydreamers or ABU Little Kings - diapers that cost a fair bit, so I only budget a couple of them a cycle, for wearing if I have a night where I can lounge around in them, and I'm not running errands or wearing oversized jeans, where it doesn't matter what I have on, because they live and die in the darkness of my trousers. I'd love to have a "nursery", or at least a dedicated diaper space; I don't know that I want a crib - I like my king size bed. Just a changing table, and shelves for my diapers, maybe glass jars for my pacifiers, and a spot for diaper cream and baby powder on a shelf by the changing table. Right now, my diaper can is in our walk-in closet, but if I had a diaper room, I'd have it in there.

I am honoured by your kind words, sir, and also honoured to be comparted to the esteemed @oznl, who has been a bit of a mentor to me, however involuntary that may be, on his part. Man, am I hungover today. Well, maybe not hungover, in the nausea-and-headache sense of the word - I drank a lot of water before I went to bed, to mitigate the effects of the gallon or so of red wine I also drank. But I am tired and I feel intellectually fuzzy, like I'm down a battery, or running a cylinder short. However, a great time was had. Sleeping was conducted in the fashion of the catastrophically brain-injured, which, perhaps, I was - certainly, if someone had administered an IQ test at 2 in the morning, I would possibly have tested on par with a lower primate. "What were the results of the test?" "He ate it." You can see where this is going; I fell asleep in less than two seconds, and I woke up nine hours later, in a very wet diaper, that did not fail me. This indicates to me that once, or possibly more than once, I did my trick where I roll over onto my back and wet, to avoid side leaks and front spill-over events, while giving my output access to the maximum inner nappy surface area. I was wearing an XL Rearz Active Air under plastic pants, and it did a good job. I was wearing my oldest pair of plastic pants, however, the ones that have been dried more than any of the others, and they are well and truly crinkly, to the point of feeling like they might shatter if the ambient temperature got any colder. Because of the tendency for the Active Airs to become moist on their exterior, I didn't want to take off the plastic pants, but I had made an error when I packed my diaper bag, assuming I had a suitable daytime diaper in it, but, I was leaving the house in haste, and had been assigned several things to bring with me by my betrothed, so I went on memory, and memory failed me. There was a diaper in my diaper bag - two, actually - but they were slim, gym diapers, the Tena Proskin's. I didn't want to put one of them on - it just made more sense to drive home in my damp Active Air and my brittle plastic pants, and then shower and put a real diaper on. So, I crunch-crackle-crunched out from my friend's guest bedroom, to their kitchen, only to be invited to join them for breakfast. Which was a very kind offer, and I badly needed a coffee, so I decided to stick it out, but I was self-conscious about how loud my underpants were, which is not something I usually pay much attention to. My buddy and his spouse both know that absorbency is a consideration in my underwear hierarchy of needs, but his kids and their significant others don't. I drank coffee, ate French toast, and then said my goodbyes, intending to head straight home, but then my stepdad called me - he needed toilet paper, and also, lunchmeat. I didn't want to leave the city, drive all the way home, and then drive all the way back again, so, sighing under my breath, I crackle-crunch-crackled my way through a department store, and then I crackle-crunch-crackled my way through a retirement home, in a diaper that was also now swelling up a fair bit, to the point where I had a surreptitious look at my fanny in a mirrored elevator interior that was devoid of cameras (I checked), and I could see "VDL's" (Visible Diaper Lines). At least I wasn't the only diapered denizen of the old folks home. Finally, I was able to head home, and swap my diaper, but this may be the swansong of those plastic pants. They were among the first ones I ever bought, not from an ABDL supplier, but rather, from a home healthcare place, in the very early days of my experimenting with self-diapering. Perhaps they deserve the uninterrupted, crackle-free peace of the grave.

Well, the grand experiment has ended. I ate a shawarma at a place I've never been to yesterday for lunch, and this morning, when I woke up, I knew that if I wanted to stay the course, I was going to have to take a few diapers with me, and go stand on a tarp in the garage. Today would have been kind of a natural termination point, anyway, because I have to spend that latter part of the day running all over the place, everywhere but home, and then I'm likely staying over at a friend's place, because we will be doing some concerted drinking later. I don't want to manage faux-fecal-incontinence under such circumstances, where it would be weird for me to take a shower, and also weird to carry biohazard bags around with me. It's been an interesting, and a challenging week. I do feel a bit closer, in spirit, to those of you who live your lives entirely in diapers, by choice or by circumstance. And I feel closer to my diapers... I feel like I know the equipment I'm operating better, like driving a car through a blizzard, or landing a plane in strong crosswinds. I have a bit more trust for some of them, and a bit less trust for others (I'm looking at you, Tena). Overall, I'm glad I conducted the experiment, and also glad that it is over with; maybe for demur, polite poopers, this would be a path strewn with rose petals, but for a beer-swilling, steak-munching cretin who appreciates the white-hot burn of scorpion peppers on occasion, the path was strewn with barbed wire and punctuated by tiger traps. I'm also intimidated by the burn rate, in terms of diaper consumption, and, I chose a week where I didn't have to travel much - were this, say, the last couple of weeks leading up to Christmas, I'd have been in fits. I would probably have had to evolve to being a one-act-per-day play, conducted at bedtime. Again, my hat is off to you commercial pilots who operate big equipment for a living; I'm going to go back to doing touch-and-goes in my Cessna, and staying in the hanger for the really bad weather! But, I've flown in storms recently, and I have newfound respect for you. On a sidenote, I have thus far not noted any "slipping" in terms of this little experiment having sanded off the edges of my control mechanisms. No night-pooping, either, which was something I had vague concerns about, because of a couple of incidents where the minions in the #2 Department became jealous of the absentee management style employed over in the #1 Department, and tried to get away with a mutinous operation while the executive offices were dark.

For quick posts, and some that get away from me, but that I intended to be quick, I'll just type it into the field on the website. The site glitches a lot less now, than it used to, but back in the day, a couple of times, I spent a half hour typing something out, and the the site glitched, and ate it. SO, when I'm, say, composing a chapter to a story, I always write it somewhere else, and then copy and paste it over. I've had pretty good results using Word; most of the format makes it over unscathed - italics and bolds and the like. Plus, as @Babypants notes, it never hurts to go through it one more time.

New experience again... I guess it was inevitable that if I started talking about how I'd done and seen everything, as a diapernaut, the Universe would respond by making fun of me. Here we are. I shall entitle this entry, Nappy Naps. I don't nap a lot - almost never. It's not that I have anything against them, philosophically - I know that entire societies are organized around them. I've just never been good at them, for three main reasons: It takes me too long to fall asleep, at odd hours of the day, whereas at bedtime, I can be out within a few minutes, much to my wife's chagrin. If I do fall asleep, I tend to wake up hungover and groggy, not refreshed and bright-eyed. If I fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon, even for a short stint, I tend to then have trouble falling asleep at night, meaning I'll be tired again tomorrow. Despite all of the above caveats, I've been chained to my desk all week, and once most of the people who work from the office had signed off for the day (lucky bunch...), I decided to take an uncharacteristic nap before dinner, before returning to my desk, to work into the evening, because tomorrow is the last day of the month. I get to work from home a lot, but most of the people in my office wouldn't envy the hours I keep, commute or no. I was wearing a pretty wet InControl BeDry EliteCare, the Goldilocks of the BeDry triad. The Night is the Sumo wrestler, the BeDry (-30-) is the rugby player, and the EliteCare is, I guess, the American Football star. In practice, I like the other two better, because the BeDry is not a bad deal, cost-wise, it has decent capacity, and it's slim enough to wear anywhere. The Night version really takes a drenching, although it will eventually swell enough to be indistinguishable from having a throw pillow down the front of your pants. The EliteCare costs slightly less than the Night, but still a fair bit more than the BeDry, and it doesn't hold as much as the one, or work as well as the other under clothing. But I bought a case of them at some point. I was dragging out the demise of that EliteCare, because of my ongoing project, trying to view the world from the other side of the tracks, living solely in diapers. I wanted to wait until I was ready to utterly devastate that diaper, rather than giving it a dignified retirement, otherwise I'd be dragging another innocent out into to battle as cannon fodder. But I was so, so tired, I could barely focus on row 1128 of the spreadsheet I was reviewing... so I went and lied down on the couch I have in my office, for a few minutes - I knew my wife would be calling me for dinner within the next 30 minutes or so. Guess what I did? This is, as I say, a first. I wet my nappy while I was napping. My already-pretty-wet nappy. So, guess what it did? It overflowed over the front, and soaked the comforter I was laying on, and dampened the cushion. My wife calling me for dinner woke me up in that mess. F***. Loss of shirt, loss of pants, loss of comforter, and a cleanup job on the cushion, too. Great. AND, I also had to reluctantly poop my pants, on the way into the house, because I needed to change my outfit, and my diaper, and there was no point saving that for once I was all cleaned up. I waddled through the house, the front of my shirt and my pants visibly wet, running into my wife, who was on her way downstairs as I was on my way up. "Don't ask..." I said, as I passed. I hope she didn't take a deep breath. To put a cherry on top, I haven't had dinner yet, because she wasn't calling me to say it was ready, she was calling to say she'd started it. Now, I am having a beer, because I richly deserve one.