24/7 startups, and unexpected pitfalls?

[Little Sherri]

An addendum to the above... still recovering from the short trip to the West Coast, which didn't really have me adapt fully to the time zone there, but, which has also left me feeling slightly sleep-deprived, I decided to take a lunchtime power nap in my office, which is something I pretty much never do - I'm not much of a napper. But I have to drive in crappy weather later and I also wanted to be a bit more rested for a deep dive I have to do into a project, so I thought I would test the waters of claims made by some that a short nap can be just the ticket. I happened to be wearing jeans because I'd been outside wrangling recycling containers, and I don't sleep in jeans, so I took them off, and lied down on the couch for a few minutes with a blanket over me. 

My wife must have felt a disturbance in the Force as I relaxed, because at some point she became possessed with a desire to print stuff, so she came over to my office, shortly after I'd fallen sound asleep. I woke up to the sound of her walking up the stairs, lifted my head, and said something like "Oh, hello...", around my pacifier. I felt strangely embarrassed at being "caught" sleeping in the middle of the day, even though it was lunch time, and not that I really have set hours for such things at work, anyway - it's more or less only important that what needs to be done, gets done - I could work at midnight if I wanted to, and sleep during the day like a vampire, although that might make collaboration harder. She naps all the time, so it's not like putting your head down for a quick snooze was new territory for her. 

Then, I sat up on the couch, judging that trying to fall back to sleep with her puttering around wasn't going to get me anywhere. Then, I realized that I only had a diaper on from the waist down. Again, not exactly a shocking revelation for her - that's typically how I'm dressed in bed and for the last couple of hours of most evenings. Still, it felt slightly weird, in the middle of the day. Of course, she needed help figuring out how to orient a double-sided page on the printer, so I had to get up off of the couch and walk over and fart around with the printer for a minute, all in my stark white, slightly-saggy, fairly crinkly Inspire+. 

I'd thrown my jeans in a heap onto a chair, and as I was adjusting the paper trays, she walked over, picked them up, folded them, and then carried and hung them over the railing by the staircase at the other end of the room, rather than, say, handing them to me or draping them over my office chair. I eyed them slightly longingly, but kind of felt like going over and putting them on would somehow highlight that fact that I wasn't wearing them. Just as picking my pacifier up off the coffee table in front of the couch would have highlighted its presence, even though it was the only thing sitting on the table, a slightly absurd, sparkly blue artifact. Our conversation drifted over to buying arm chairs, and we ended up walking back to my desk, and I sat down, and we browsed some options on my laptop, talked about this and that, and then she turned and headed back downstairs after hanging around for twenty minutes or so. It was interesting to just sit there in my diaper in the middle of the day with nothing said about it. Maybe it's a precursor to what life might look like once the kids leave home? 

[Little Sherri]

Well, it's been an interesting weekend so far, or rather, it was an interesting evening last night, although I didn't know how interesting it was becoming, until close to the end. I'll explain, but first, I also wanted to mention again that the MegaMax is a great product. I've been in a couple of them over the last 24 hours, and they're very comfy and reliable, and the plastic is not overly loud and the tapes hold really well. Good job, NorthShore.

Speaking of NorthShore, I had one of their Air Supreme's on, on Friday later in the day, and they did that thing that cloth-backed diapers do where they start to feel just a little, hmmm, not even "damp", but slightly perceptibly moist on the surface. However, those diapers hold a lot, and I was at home base so I didn't feel like swapping it out when it still had some runway left, so, on a lark, I pulled on some plastic pants and continued with my life. The combination worked out very well - I don't know why I didn't think of doing that before. It basically felt like a cloth diaper after a while, and when I finally went to take it off, it was well past its best-before date and was quite wet, both inside and out, and there was even a bit of liquid in the plastic pants, but my pants, and later my sheets, remained dry - I was watching a movie in bed with my wife in the latter part of the evening. I still felt a bit "bashful", though, about taking my jeans off and getting into bed in nursery-print plastic pants, even though I wear printed diapers in front of her all the time. I wonder if I'll ever get over that, and what the root of it is? Anyway, if I ever feel like having a cloth diaper experience, without the laundry, I now have that option. It's a wonder that I didn't think of this before. It's not like I've never worn plastic pants over a disposable, it's just that usually, when I do that, it's to improve range and reliability, and that mission generally starts with a top-tier plastic diaper, rather than a cloth-backed one. 

Back to the lead, though... I think I'm avoiding typing this out, because to do so will solidify it. I might title this "A Series of Possibly Unfortunate Events."  It started with me leaving the house to go run an errand in a town about an hour away. I expected to be out for maybe three hours, then I was to head home, get changed, and then go pick up a buddy whose birthday was last week, and meet a group of people at a pub to celebrate. I'd leave my car at the pub and retrieve it in the morning. 

I'd left to run the errand wearing jeans over a white MegaMax, and a t-shirt and a sweater. I didn't put on my usual onesie under that getup, because I was mostly going to be in my car, and not really interacting with very many people. I was picking up a bottle of somewhat hard-to-get Scotch, as a birthday present, at a distant store, because it wasn't in stock in my area. It turned out that store didn't have it either, even though they showed it as being in stock online, but a further search turned up another bottle a little further down the road, and in the end I managed to get my hands on it, but by then, something had happened on the highway and traffic had turned into nightmare. There's a very large lake between that area and where I live, and short of a boat or aircraft, the only way back was the highway or parallel roads that were becoming equally congested. So, by the time I was back in my postal code, I was running late... if I went home and got changed, I'd end up being late to pick up the guest of honour, and both of us would be late to the pub.

I evaluated my options... I had a pretty good diaper on, that I'd put on right before leaving, so it had a lot of capacity left, and I'd actually just put another couple of white MegaMax's in my car's "go-bag" this week, so I had enough diapers with me to go for 48 hours.  There were also a couple of Rearz diapers in there. I was dressed decently enough for the evenings planned events, but... no onesie on. Was it worth going home just for that...? I decided the answer was no. I'm a professional, I thought. I wear diapers everywhere. I'll be fine. 

So I picked up my buddy and we got to the bar, and the other guys were there, and we presented him with his Scotch, and we started ordering drinks. Lots of drinks. Beer. Whiskey. Weird shots that I almost never bother with because I'm not hellbent on self-destruction (or diabetes), and I don't enjoy hangovers. Meanwhile, a band set up, and a loudspeaker was placed almost directly in front of us, so one of the waitresses offered to move our group over to a high-top table that had just been vacated, so we could see better and also possibly emerge from the evening with our hearing intact. We took her up on her offer. 

Getting over there and getting settled, I ended up sitting on a barstool at one end of the table, in a position where there was kind of a lane of traffic behind me, and the bar was on one side, and the washrooms were on the other, so everyone at our table, and indeed, it seemed like everyone in the bar, had to shuffle past me at some point. And it started getting hot in the bar, even though, or maybe because, it was cold outside. When we moved over, I'd put my jacket on, unzipped, and intended to stay that way, but it was too hot, so I ended up hanging it up over the back of one of my friend's chairs, which had a back, unlike my stool. 

Drinks and merriment continued, and there was much laughter and conversation, all well-lubricated by a continual flow of IPA's and stouts and occasional shots. I got pretty well intoxicated - I'm still feeling it today, which is rare for me. The band was loud and I was leaning over the table to hear what people were saying, and turning to look over my shoulder at the band, and reaching for drinks, fist-bumps, nachos.. My diaper situation went completely on autopilot. I don't recall ever deliberately wetting it, it just happened, much as I imagine legitimate urinary incontinence must feel like, although in this case, I know that I was still allowing it to happen, I just have no recollection of it right now. But at some point it occurred to me that I needed to give it some consideration, because I'd lost all track of time, and my diaper was doing that thing that good disposables do, where it can be really hard to tell how wet they are by the seat of your pants. So, I thought that it would be a good time for a trip to the washroom - I needed to wash my hands anyway. I did a cursory reach behind me to make sure my shirt was still tucked in... and my hand encountered bare skin and plastic. I tried not to let my face betray anything as I listened to my buddy telling some story to everyone that I don't recall, and I didn't want to keep my hand back there, because it felt like I was essentially pointing to my diaper, for anyone standing or sitting behind me... and there were a LOT of people standing or sitting behind me. We were the last high table in a row of high tables, and then the rest of the tables from us, over to the band, were low tables. 

I reached up and dragged the hem of my t-shirt and sweater down, surveying the wreckage as I did so. My diaper was at least 1 -2 inches above my beltline, and there was at least an inch of skin above that, in my estimation. I said "I'll be right back", and stood up, pulled my sweater down, and headed into the washroom and into a stall, where I could evaluate my diaper, and my feelings. The diaper was okay - the evening was drawing to a close and I felt I didn't need to change it right then. But, dear reader... what had people seen? 

That question dogs me today. At least I was wearing a white diaper, and not something festooned with the word "baby" or teddy bears or mermaids or whatever, but, a diaper is a diaper is a diaper. Something with a juvenile theme would of course have been worse, because it could raise a host of questions and maybe lead to Googling and the discovery of a strange and unknown world for someone, whereas there are "legitimate" (from a vanilla perspective) reasons to wear white plastic diapers - millions of people do, everyday. So, nobody is likely to say anything, I'd imagine, IF they noticed anything. Which means that I'll probably never know who saw what. 

I lay this at the feet of hubris, my friends. I'm so used to navigating the world from inside baby pants that I've come to believe that I can jump from tightrope to tightrope with no safety harness, and gravity does not apply to me. But here I am, freefalling. Oops. 

[dribblez]

I think there are three possibilities here:

1. Everyone around you was pretty drunk. As we know, alcohol lowers inhibitions, but nobody said, "Hey buddy, your diapers are showing."

2. Everyone was pretty drunk and they saw a blurry expanse of tighty whities.

3. Your friends know you wear diapers, presumably because of some there-but-for-the-grace-of-God-go-I medical condition, and they don't care.

If nobody says anything in the next few days, and it is very unlikely that they will, life will go on and nobody noticed, or if they did, they don't care.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1. Everyone around you was a bit drunk. Alcohol, as we all know, makes us less inhibited, so if it had been that obvious someone might have said, "Hey buddy, your diaper's showing." But they didn't.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2. Everyone around you was a bit drunk and what they saw were some slightly blurry tighty whities.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3. Your friends know that you wear diapers, presumably because of some the-re but for-the-grace-of-God

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Little Sherri]

I don’t know what happened there, but that last post included miles of white space. Is there some way I can trim that out, @DailyDi?

Ironically, I started my last entry with an ode to the MegaMax, which is one of my favourite products, and then today, @drynot posted about Age Comfort (in the Toronto area) having cases on sale. I went over and had a look, and sure enough, they have X-LARGE pink ones on for $106 a case. That struck me as good value, but, the MegaMax is the one product that i can actually still wear a medium in. The larges are big on me, but manageable for wearing around the house. I’d be swimming in an XL, however, and my wife, while not having said anything, does seem to look askance at really pink diapers… and these are really pink. However, I might have to change my tune on that, because on a lark, I decided to see what a case of mediums in white is selling for… and they’re $185 CAD now?!? That’s not what I paid last time - I think it was about $160 CAD for 40, which, at $4 a diaper, is about my ceiling for bulk purchases. I’ll spend $6 a diaper to try out some new product (looking at you, ABU Little Kings), but I don’t make my living in those. 

I guess the exchange rate is to blame? This development may further tilt the table in favour of Rearz. If they do their annual warehouse sale and have the usual deals on, it’ll be hard to justify paying $185 plus shipping ($12 flat), versus cases from Rearz for $110 and shipping included.

Fortunately, that is a problem for Little Sherri of the future, because Little Sherri of the present has 14 cases of diapers in the basement. A fear of inflation (which, it turns out, may be justified in some cases) has had me taking advantage of some of the deals that have been on, for Black Friday late last year, and for Valentine’s Day. However, I have to be careful, or, as I said on Drynot’s thread, I’ll find myself living in a van with 14 cases of diapers. At least I’ll be warm and dry…

[Little Sherri]

The Universe tapped me on the shoulder again while I was watching YouTube dog training videos with my wife. One of the eminently patient online trainers said something along the lines of "Remember, having a young dog is like having a baby in the house for the first few months. You'll be getting up in the middle of the night." 

To which my wife said... "Like having another baby in the house..." 

I was lying there in a Rearz Lil' Splash, so I couldn't exactly protest, but I did say "Well, I don't wake you up in the middle of the night..."

To which she replied, "If you've been drinking, sometimes you do, you snore like a freight train." 

So does she, on occasion, but I felt it wise to let the conversational thread die.

Fast forward to this morning when the alarm went off, and we both sat up, however I got up out of bed first, and started circumnavigating it in order to go into the bathroom, the entrance for which is on her side. Whereupon she said "I have to pee, and I think YOU can wait." And then she went in ahead of me and closed the door.

In other news, I had a weird leak last night, thankfully in a parking lot. I was at a pub with a couple of buddies, wearing a Rearz Barnyard. The Barnyard is an uncommon diaper for me to wear out and about. I bought a case of them on sale quite a while ago - years ago, really - and I found them to be quite large at the time. I'd bought size large for some reason, I think maybe because I was toward the outer limits of the medium dimensional range, and being hook-and-loop plastic diapers, if the lower tab doesn't make it to the landing zone, you're out of luck unless you want to employ staples. They were fine for around the house, but I had an uncomfortable moment in one when I was out with the dog, wearing athletic shorts over it, because I thought there was no way I'd run into anyone, and I ended up running into a neighbour, which left me feeling a bit self-conscious. I eventually burned through most of them, but I'd tucked one into a bag of Elite Hybrids when I was tidying up my inventory a good while back, and I found it this week and decided to throw it into the rotation. 

I've gone up a size since back then (thanks, Covid), and now those large Barnyards are about the same size as any of the other large diapers I wear, if perhaps a bit more crinkly and bulky than my usual daytime drivers. I'd put it on yesterday late in the afternoon, not realizing that I'd end up going out, but once the invitation came in, I thought, it'll be fine. And indeed it was fine, until I was saying goodbye to my buddies in the parking lot, and wrapping up some conversations. While absentmindedly leaking into my pants, I felt an uncommon wetness and evaporative cooling sensation on the front of both of my thighs. Of course, I couldn't look into it right then, or I'd have drawn attention to it, and in any case, wearing jeans, and standing in a low-lit parking lot, I knew that whatever might be going on wasn't going to be obvious to my buddies. Once we all headed to our vehicles, I flipped on the dome light and had a quick look... and found wet patches about 2-3 inches in diameter on both sides, right along the diaper lines where my thighs meet my groin area. This was a strange and unexpected failure mode. 

The diaper was wet, but not much past about the 50% mark, although the front had swelled up notably. This has me wondering if maybe some of the adhesives have aged out or something. Do diapers have an expiry date? I sometimes see people here selling vintage models, sometimes for lofty sums - are those strictly for collecting? Is there a point where they're no longer reliable to wear? 
 

[oznl]

17 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

The diaper was wet, but not much past about the 50% mark, although the front had swelled up notably. This has me wondering if maybe some of the adhesives have aged out or something. Do diapers have an expiry date? I sometimes see people here selling vintage models, sometimes for lofty sums - are those strictly for collecting? Is there a point where they're no longer reliable to wear? 

 

I've seen this in a handful of high capacity muscle-nappies.  It looks to me that the SAP saturates out locally, the limited wicking disappears and if anything, the sodden bit of the nappy suddenly becomes hydrophobic.

I've noticed it a little in the "new fit" Barrys, primarily when they see action whilst I'm sitting driving but its also occurred standing.  They can leak a little out the sides of the crotch.  They don't seem to do it from dry but nor do they need to be sodden.  They just seem to need to be wet at ground zero.  My plastic pants catch it and unless it's significant, that's the end of it.  A substantive leak will track down inside my plastic pants only to reappear at my rear thighs.

I've had substantial leaks of the type you describe in pinned cloth nappies.  In this case, the nappy has been pinned poorly creating a kind of "window" at my inner crotch.  Wet toweling takes longer to capture pee than dry and with gravity and opportunity aligned, pee might escape.

[Little Sherri]

I did an update of my diaper inventory spreadsheet yesterday, and I was amazed that according to it, I have 15 cases of diapers (if a case constitutes 32 units), and over 500 individual diapers. There are a few models in there where a case is 40 units; MegaMax's come in 40's, and a few of the new Rearz models come in 40's now, although I don't have many of them yet - when I order, they're stilling shipping 32's in my sizes for the most part. I'd say I have at least 13 or 14, anyway. 

That's ~23 weeks worth of diapers, and probably more than that, because there are days when I manage to get by in just 2, and, I do have cloth diapers, although my use of them is very infrequent. I might try to allot one day a week to cloth. That alone would reduce my usage by 14%. I just have to get past my self-consciousness about wearing cloth around my wife. Maybe I should get some plain plastic pants - everything I have is printed right now. My old clear ones have stiffened to the point that I expect them to shatter. 

I can't remember if I mentioned this or not and I don't have the time to comb through the entries, so my apologies if this is a repeated story, but, we watched "Meet The Family" with my daughter a few weeks ago, and in that, there's a gag about "potty-training a cat", and at the time, my wife threw a wisecrack at me. We watched part of "Meet The Parents" last night, where the cat flushing the toilet comes into it again. My wife looked at me with slightly raised eyebrows and again said something like "See? Even cats can be potty trained...", which I think went over my daughter's head, but I caught it. 

[Little Sherri]

Someone else from here has already pointed out that most of my friends likely had the same impaired observational capabilities that I had, by that point, so it’s possible that they all missed it. I was wearing a plain white diaper – small mercy – so at least no cartoon mermaids or animals were on display. Maybe that nondescript strip of white plastic at my lower back could have passed for the waistband of some white boxer shorts. Nobody has said anything so far, and it’s probable that even if they did see something, they might never, ever mention it.

 In any case, the conclusion that I’ve come to is this: if I’m going to wear diapers everywhere, all the time, for the foreseeable future, then I’m going to have to accept that the possibility exists that sooner or later, people I know will figure out that I wear diapers. Just as, if I’m going to drive all over the place in a car, I have to accept that at some point, I might end up involved in some kind of automotive mishap. If I eat ice cream, I might get some on my shirt here and there. Such is life.

 I’ve decided that I’m fine with that. I’m not going to go out and try and draw attention to the strange reality that exists under my trousers, but, I have to believe that my relationships with these people are strong enough that “medically prescribed” undergarments would not irreparably harm them. We basically never talk about our underwear, so I’m not anticipating ever having to specifically address this, but, I’ve decided that if someone sees or suspects something, that’s fine. If I ever get asked about it, something which I doubt would likely happen, because we’re all pretty polite, but IF it happened, then I’d lean into a medical explanation, and provide as little further information as I could, so that my “story” tracks as close as is practical to the truth of my situation: I need to wear diapers. And I do.

 With that in mind, I found myself working with a good friend and his wife on a tiling project yesterday, in an apartment that got absurdly hot, because another part of it had the doors propped open, which caused the thermostat to overcompensate. I had an overnight bag with me in the car, and in it, there was a pair of shorts that I typically keep at the ready beside my bed, when I’m sleeping away from home, in case the fire alarm goes off or the police bust in or what have you, and I need to leap out of bed and don’t want to have to go dashing out of my room in just a printed nappy.

 We were absolutely melting, working in there, to the point of making it difficult to see through my safety glasses, and finally, after taking my sweater and outer t-shirt off, I decided to swap my jeans for the shorts. I had a diaper shirt on and a quiet diaper (Rearz Active Air), so I knew that it wasn’t going to be abundantly obvious that I had unconventional underclothes on, but the shorts were of a medium-weight fabric, and we were working on the floor in a tight space, so, I had to accept that they might not have provided as much stealth capability as the jeans. I decided I was fine with that, and I went into the other washroom and got changed, which made me notably more comfortable, from a thermal perspective, and, remarkably, no less comfortable, otherwise – I’d even call it a bit “freeing”; the idea that “this” isn’t a nuclear-level secret that defines me entirely, but rather, is a footnote about my wardrobe that most people probably wouldn’t care about.

 Not that I plan to become an exhibitionist; I think that if my friends thought I was using them as a prop for some kind of kink excitement, they’d rightfully toss me aside like expired deli meat. But maybe the amount of anxiety that I allocate to these thought processes can be dialed back a few notches?

[Little Sherri]

It's funny - I just re-read the above, and it has a bit of a non sequitur start to it. That's because I'd started typing this when something froze, and I had to close everything down, so I decided to type it in a word processer and copy it over, in case that happened again. I've written novels here before and then lost them to my computer choking on something. Sigh. I can't remember what I'd said prior to that, but something. Anyway, the main points are there. 

So, I'm in a diaper that my wife put me in, right now. Not that she physically put me in it - that would amount to breaking news. No, I have yet to be diapered by her. However, last night, she decided to go to bed early because she had a headache. We have a young dog who sleeps in a crate in our bedroom right now because otherwise he'd spend the early hours of the morning ripping our clothing to shreds, and he's quite used to our routines - he knows that it's time to go to bed when we go to bed. But, retiring early, or one of us going to bed and the other staying up, throws him off. Ergo, my beloved didn't want me to come wandering into the room and doing my usual nighttime wind-down routine, which is typically to take my daytime clothes and diaper off, take a shower, then put on a t-shirt and whatever diaper I plan to wear to bed, and then read or watch something for a couple of hours until the lights go out. She'd already turned the lights out, midway through the evening, and she'd taken the dog up with her. 

I was busy farting around with cleaning up downstairs and hadn't given much thought to what the implications of her calling it a night early were to my usual routine. Eventually, I headed upstairs... and found a pile waiting for me on the floor outside of our bedroom door. It consisted of my iPad, the book I'm currently reading, one of my sleeping shirts, my travel bag with my toiletries in it, and, one diaper, an ABU Little Kings, which I am still in. The subtext was obvious... go do your bedtime stuff somewhere else, and creep into the room when you plan to sleep.

The diaper selection was interesting. The ABU Little King (and it's Alphagatorz sibling) are novelty diapers in my collection. They look like adult-sized, double-tab previous-generation Pampers, although for all that, they're not bad as functional diapers, really. Sometimes the tabs part ways with their hook-and-loop fingertips, but only after a long time under strain. Putting plastic pants over them exacerbates the effect, but no plastic pants were provided last night. I cogitated on why she'd made that selection... I'd taken the ABU up from the basement with me on my last diaper drawer restocking mission, but only one of them, because they're $6 CAD each and so I don't use them very often. The drawer was mostly stocked with Rearz products, plus a couple of MegaMax's, and, the ABU was under them, as far as I recalled. However, the ABU is a cloth-backed product... had she prioritized quietness in her selection? Or did she just like the graphics? Why had she rejected the top layer of diapers, mostly Lil' Monsters and Essentials? The mind boggles. 

I picked up my stack of belongings and headed into the kids' bathroom. I took my shower and then opened up my toiletries kit to see what she'd packed for me... razor and toothbrush, check, deodorant, check... but also my travel tub of diaper cream, baby powder, and I blushed briefly on discovering that she'd even packed my pacifier from my bedside table. She'd thought of everything, no midnight rummaging required. However, it was only about 9:30 PM, and I wasn't ready to go to bed... but I didn't want to wander the upstairs in just a diaper, either, because my daughter usually goes to bed around 10 or 10:30, and she'd be wanting to use the washroom - I was sure she was already perplexed by my occupation of it. As covered previously, my kids (teenagers) know I wear diapers, but, that doesn't grant me carte blanche to inflict that image on them. Also, I had my "dead soldier" to contend with - a Rearz Lil' Splash the weight of a dead opossum. My diaper can is in our walk-in closet, and I couldn't stuff THAT into the kids' trash can, as much as I've found incredible things stuffed in there before (I'm the designated household trash receptacle emptier). I found a pumpkin, once, with a candle stuck on top of it. 

In the end, I took a big purple towel from their stock and made a knee-length skirt out of it so that I could walk about the house without traumatizing anyone, and I took my diaper, wrapped in my old shirt, down to the kitchen for interment in the covered bin down there, under a layer of other debris. The kitchen bin gets emptied on a daily basis, more or less. I ran into my daughter down there, and we ended up in a conversation about a job she's applying for, while I stood there, improbably, wrapped in a purple towel under a t-shirt. To her credit, she offered no commentary nor asked any questions. 

[Little Sherri]

An interesting and potentially delicate topic of conversation came up last night with my spouse, which caused me to literally flee the room on a pretense, and I immediately thought, "I have to put this to the diaper experts." That would be you folks.

We're closing in on tax time, here in the Frozen North. Our deadline is a bit later than the personal one, because we have a business, but we have been compiling stuff for our accountant for a while now. He's always after us to provide him with as many legitimate deductions as we can - to keep every receipt for meals out or client gifts or promotional items, etc. One thing that comes into the picture on the personal side is medical expenses; after a certain threshold, you can write off a portion of prescriptions, RMT visits outside of benefits, chiropractic, orthodontia if it's not strictly cosmetic - IE if it serves to prevent future dental issues, prescription expenses that go beyond what benefits cover, etc. 

Suddenly, my wife had an epiphany. You can probably see where this is going.

"What about your diapers? How much do you spend on those? Do you have receipts? We should send them to the accountant in case he can use some of it."

At that point, I looked at my phone, said I had to email somebody something, and dashed over to my office to think. 

First of all, I don't want to provide my wife with a detailed accounting of what I spend on diapers. Not that it's a ruinous amount, but, it would really underline for her what "this" actually costs, wouldn't it? A few bucks a day, at the least. That old financial adage about how skipping a takeout coffee every day can pay for your next vacation comes to mind. This is the equivalent of a couple of pricy coffees a day. 

Second, I'm not sure this qualifies. Do I really want to end up in a dispute with the tax agency, a year from now, over whether or not ABU or Bambino or Rearz printed diapers meet the threshold of being a medical necessity? I'm not sure how that's administered, because you don't need a prescription to buy diapers, but... would I have to confine myself to products from medical supply outlets? Would I need to get my doctor to sign some form? 

Also, of all the professionals that I thought I might find myself in an awkward conversation with one day about "this", my accountant wasn't one of them. Is she picturing me going into his nice offices with a file folder of receipts, sitting down and looking at Business Weekly in the waiting room, and then at some point handing the folder across either his, or his bookkeeper's desk, and saying "So, I believe that's most of the receipts I have for my diaper fetish. I've categorized them by white versus printed, on the theory that claiming InControl Elite Hybrid diapers might be defensible, while perhaps claiming to 'need'  Lil' Bella scented, winged pony emblazoned diapers would not be. Call me if you need any clarifications." 

Have any of you discussed the tax implications of "this" with their accountant? 

[Babygeebee]

This is interesting. I've never thought to treat diapers as a medical expense for tax purposes. I wonder if the CRA (Canadian IRS for our American friends) would have a similar ruling as they do for orthotics. That is they won't allow the deduction for "sport". 

[tuffy]

7 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

Have any of you discussed the tax implications of "this" with their accountant? 

Since you're in Canada, your rules will be very different.

In the US, I wouldn't bother. We can only deduct medical expenses that exceed 7.5% of our income. So for someone making $60K, you can only deduct expenses that exceed $4,500.

In addition to that, I'd expect to justify the expense with a diagnosis from a doctor and a paper trail of other treatments I've tried. Finally, in case of an audit (you always have to assume there will be one) those dreaded receipts need to be at hand.

My projections for wearing 24x7 using NorthShore (for myself) are around $350/month based on prices from last November (up $50 from over the summer). That's still doesn't reach the threshold down here.

Your mileage might vary up in the frozen north, but given your lack of documentation, I suggest you break the news to your wife gently and hope she doesn't want to run the  numbers herself.

[zzyzx]

3 hours ago, tuffy said:

Since you're in Canada, your rules will be very different.

In the US, I wouldn't bother. We can only deduct medical expenses that exceed 7.5% of our income. So for someone making $60K, you can only deduct expenses that exceed $4,500.

In addition to that, I'd expect to justify the expense with a diagnosis from a doctor and a paper trail of other treatments I've tried. Finally, in case of an audit (you always have to assume there will be one) those dreaded receipts need to be at hand.

My projections for wearing 24x7 using NorthShore (for myself) are around $350/month based on prices from last November (up $50 from over the summer). That's still doesn't reach the threshold down here.

Your mileage might vary up in the frozen north, but given your lack of documentation, I suggest you break the news to your wife gently and hope she doesn't want to run the  numbers herself.

@Little Sherri:  As @tuffy said, in the US, you have to exceed 7.5% of income in medical expenses before you can deduct on your personal federal income taxes, and I'm no where near close to that.

However, I do have the needed medical documentation.  There again, I came here from need for handling incontinence issues and not from the AB / DL side.  My documentation is to justify FSA fund usage.  And I don't really want to get into that, but it comes down to both IRS policies and the policies of the company you work for....  And I had an issue with inconsistent documentation at the company level the first time I filed the FSA paperwork....

So, in the US, if you are making decent money, then you are unlikely to do this unless a family member is real sick.  However some treatments are costly, especially if no insurance....  So, it is a legitimate question.

Your mileage may vary.  And I have no idea how Canada handles this for tax purposes.

[oznl]

I know nothing about Canadian taxation law but it would be a cold day in tax hell for a tax department in any jurisdiction I can imagine where they allow deductions without a very clear, objectively substantiated case.

In addition to the taxation compliance considerations, there would be ethical considerations about the legitimacy of your entitlement to such concessions and the potential opportunity-costs for others in the event of you availing yourself of them.

And then there's the issues you've already outlined...

I'd be saying something like:

"I’d most likely need a bunch of investigative medical work-up involving discomfort, time and expense to re-examine a problem that I’m dealing with just fine in my own way just get the kind of paperwork the tax office might ask for.   On top of this, in the scheme of things the cost is trivial and lastly, it’s just not information I want to share with an accountancy firm so I'm going to let this one slide."

In the grand scheme of things, I suspect the cost of my nappies is reached and breached by my beloved's shoe fetish although that would be a tough one to weaponise in a domestic battle.

[Little Sherri]

On 3/9/2023 at 3:14 AM, oznl said:

In the grand scheme of things, I suspect the cost of my nappies is reached and breached by my beloved's shoe fetish although that would be a tough one to weaponise in a domestic battle.

This is more or less the direction I went in. I said that I'm not auditing what she's spent on household upgrades - for example, now she's shopping for blinds again - and my nappy expenditures would be a fraction of that. And, I'm uninterested in talking to any of our cadre of professionals about my plastic underwear - not the doctor, not the accountant, not the financial advisor, not the psychic (presumably they know?), not the veterinarian, the mechanic, nor the lawyer. 

It's snowing again here in the Frozen North. We are being punished for getting off easy at the start of the winter, and it does seem that either the media, or the Universe, has a sense of humour, because in January, we were all complaining about the weather forecasters overcalling impending events, which kept turning into rain, after they'd closed the schools in expectation of frozen sleet or snow. Well, for the last month, it's been trending in the other direction - they call for 20 cm of snow, and we get 30. Today's "5-10 cm" is already more than 10, and it's supposed to keep snowing for several more hours. 

At least I get to watch it accumulate while wearing a diaper and working away the day. At some point later, I'll put snow pants on and go out and either shovel, or fire up the snowblower. I love the feeling of snow pants over a diaper for some reason - it makes me feel nostalgic. I vaguely recall as a little kid being out sledding, wearing snow pants over a diaper, and getting invited into one of my sister's friends' houses for some hot chocolate, and then her mom asked me if I wanted to take my snow pants off, and I imagine that I must have turned pale and froze on the spot - I just remember abject fear seizing me, until my sister mercifully spoke up and said that I'd be fine leaving them on. 

Speaking of nostalgia, and also, again, of diapers, I stumbled upon a funny series the other day, on Netflix. It's called F Is for Family - I wrote a brief piece up for the "Diapers in the News" thread about it, but basically, it's a cross between The Flintstones and Family Guy, but set in the 1970's, and anyone who grew up in that era, or adjacent to it, will find a lot to laugh about and enjoy many of the cultural touchstones that they riff on, things like TV's built as furniture, and paneled station wagons, and free-range parenting. There's a kid in the show, Kenny, who's aways depicted wearing a t-shirt and a diaper, even though he's not a baby or a toddler. They never expressly say how old he is, but the kids he hangs around with are around 11, and he's supposed to be one of their younger brothers.

That part rang true for me as well - anyone who's read much of what I've babbled on about over the last 4 years here knows my history with my childhood friend and neighbour, whom I chose my screen name after, and whose mom used to send her outside in just a diaper and a shirt, as Kenny is perpetually dressed in the series. I thought it was the strangest thing in the world, at the time, and my parents never sent me outside like that, but the inclusion of it the show has me wondering if that was a "thing" back then - if it was more common than I thought it was. 

[diapered 4 ever]

On 3/8/2023 at 10:03 AM, Little Sherri said:

An interesting and potentially delicate topic of conversation came up last night with my spouse, which caused me to literally flee the room on a pretense, and I immediately thought, "I have to put this to the diaper experts." That would be you folks.

 

Have any of you discussed the tax implications of "this" with their accountant? 

Not sure about business expenses, but in Canada you can personally claim a Disability Tax Credit of $8870 for diapers after getting form T2201 filled out by your doctor, and of course informing your chosen tax preparer that you regularly piddle in your pants and would like to claim the $8870 credit for the purchased Pampers. 
CRS considers functional incontinence (overactive bladder) and the inability to be out in (and work) in public far from a bathroom without diapers and the resulting extra time, expense and effort needed to change them to be a legitimate disability worthy of at least a credit. 

[Little Sherri]

A couple of quick notes here... first, my project this year to lose some of my Covid poundage is yielding some results. I'm only down maybe 12 lbs or so, but the slight difference in how my pants are fitting is once again allowing me to wear decent plastic diapers comfortably while in unusual positions. Case in point - I'm working on a flooring project with a buddy, and that involves bending over crawling around, squatting, and generally doing something that resembles Yoga, to the tune of charging compressors and discharging nail guns. I wore a Rearz Select last night, not a heavy diaper, but, a "real" one, all plastic and tabs and good for a few hours in the saddle, under a onesie, and I didn't give it any thought, whereas late last year I was confining myself to my slim gym diapers for such occasions. 

Also, in an interesting and precedent-setting development, my spouse seems to have asked me to use my diaper. This came about at 3 AM, so my memory of how it transpired is foggy, but, here's the backstory: I'd eaten wings and had a pint with a buddy after a few tiring hours of wrestling hardwood into place through doorways and such, then headed home, arriving at midnight. I took a shower, got into a new diaper, brushed teeth, crawled into bed... and, nothing. Sleep would not come for me. Maybe it's the time change, maybe it was the physical activity at a later-than-usual hour. I'm not sure, but, in any case, I could not summon unconsciousness. After a couple of hours of rolling around, I decided to get up and take one of the melatonin tablets that my wife eats like candy. 

We have a young dog, as I've mentioned before, and he's pretty good most of the time, but he does sometimes interpret activity in the middle of the night as a sign that the rollicking festivities of the day are set to commence. So, my walking past him got his tail wagging, which started crashing against the side of his crate, causing it to act like a cymbal for a few seconds. I went into the washroom, closed the door, turned on the light, took a pill, drank some water, came back out, set the dog off again briefly, then crawled into bed. 

My wife, who has trouble falling asleep at the best of times, sighed loudly, and said into the darkness "Can you not do that, just for right now?"

Puzzled, I said "Do what?"

Then came the torrent: "Not get up after we've got the dog settled. I thought the whole point of you wearing Pampers to bed was that you didn't have to get up!"

She sighed loudly again, and rolled over dramatically. It didn't feel like a rebuttal would have been welcome. 

While she's correct in stating that my sleeping in "Pampers" does, in theory, prevent my having to get up out of bed to go use the washroom, at the same time, that wasn't my stated goal. Getting up too often wasn't an issue back when this all started, and I don't know if it would be an issue now or not, because I never do it. But that seems to be a conclusion she's settled on. The subtext seems to be, if she's going to put up with a basement full of diapers and a husband walking around in diapers, the least she should get out of it is a good night's sleep.... so, please, just use the damned diapers at night. 

Which of course I already do, but it was interesting to get her unsolicited take on the matter.

[oznl]

On 3/15/2023 at 12:48 AM, Little Sherri said:

Then came the torrent: "Not get up after we've got the dog settled. I thought the whole point of you wearing Pampers to bed was that you didn't have to get up!"

I'm secretly (well not anymore) envious of the tolerance you seem to bask in although I've always remained curious about what she imagines your motivations in this venture to be.

Unfortunately, having scorched the earth with truth, my own beloved remains grimly silent at best and constructs evermore elaborate internal defences and firewalls to deny the awful reality before her.

[Little Sherri]

1 hour ago, oznl said:

I'm secretly (well not anymore) envious of the tolerance you seem to bask in although I've always remained curious about what she imagines your motivations in this venture to be.

I'll never be completely secure in this. My wife is usually the type to ask probing follow-up questions. She interrogates our kids like she works for the Russian GRU if she detects any inconsistencies in the narratives of their explanations for whatever transgression she might suspect. She may have constructed her own "evermore elaborate internal defences and firewalls to deny the awful reality before her." 

One recurrent concern I harbour relates to her having a group of good friends who have known each other since grade school, who take turns gathering at each other's houses. We've hosted the coven many times. I usually make myself scarce during these events, but I once remained a satellite in their orbit as I was caring for a sick child who was not suitable for an evening out with dad. When I wasn't delivering juice and dry toast to the patient, I acted as background support staff and quietly scuttled dishes away and topped up wine occasionally. Once they've exhausted stories about their kids, all they have left to do is complain about their husbands, since they don't make beer or watch sports. I can't help but wonder if she's ever opened a conversation, after being suitably lubricated with Chardonnay, with "You won't believe this, ladies... he's wearing DIAPERS now!" Although I'm hoping that her regard for privacy outweighs her compulsion to share and be heard. 

Speaking of dry toast, I ate Italian food last night, a tasty lasagna, and got "got" somehow. I've never been poisoned by Italian food before - it's acidic and salty and generally somewhat hostile to pathogens within a reasonable time after preparation. Indeed, I'm not sure it was something growing in the food that found me to be a suitable host - this tore through me so quickly that I am more inclined to blame an enteric virus. Food poisoning is usually worse, takes longer to manifest, and longer to clear. 

In any case, I woke up in the middle of the night, and once again violated my wife's edict that I should "just use my diaper", to avoid disturbing the dog, although, if she noticed, she left it unspoken. I could not have done what I needed to do in my diaper, in any case, or else I would have been disposing of both it, and the bedding, come morning. The storm passed quickly, and this morning, other than being a little tired, and disinclined to eat, I think I'm more or less okay. 

What's interesting, from the perspective of the theme of the room, is this: before I woke up and realized that I was about to become intestinally challenged, I had a dream. In it, I was taking my diaper off for some reason that wasn't clear, but that was unrelated to the following plot twist: when I "blew the hatch", and dropped it to the floor below me, I was astounded to see that I'd pooped in it. Not a massive event, but, definitely a Code 2. In the dream, I was amazed and concerned, because I had no "dream recollection" (I'm getting into Inception-level layering here) of having done that... it had happened, and apparently, I hadn't noticed. Which, I imagine, is not what actual fecal incontinence is like at all, but, that's dream logic for you. 

I was so shaken by the dream that I woke up in the middle of it, as though I'd fallen backwards down a flight of stairs or was caught in some other more typical nightmare scenario. When I woke up, I realized that something wasn't right, and I headed to the bathroom. I think the dream was an interweaving of somatic feedback with whatever the hell I was thinking about in my subconscious. It's interesting that I occasionally get these overnight "warning shots" about losing control in a department that, during the day, I patrol quite rigidly. 

[Little Sherri]

God, my bones are tired. I've generally taken to enjoying interspersing my mostly-sedentary working conditions with the kind of stuff that requires bending and climbing and carrying lumber and solving physical problems with my hands. The feedback is so tactile and tangible and immediate compared with most of what I do, which involves projects that are months or years away, the completed results of which I almost never see, unless something goes wrong. But doing it evening in, evening out for a couple of weeks is wearing me down. Also, we while at it, we tend to drink beer. Lightly, but still. The combination is taxing my arms, my back and my organs. 

My wife once again managed to get a shot in at me, regarding my juvenile underwear preferences, this weekend. Although the way she worded it left much ambiguity in what she meant, she actually did it publicly. We were watching a friend's son try out for a hockey team at an arena, and when it was over and everyone was filing out, I was trying to hurry us out the door to beat the other 800 people who need to make the same left turn out of the place. We were standing with our friends in the lobby, and she turned to me and said "No, we are not rushing out to the car - I really need to pee."

Me: "We're 15 minutes from home, well, assuming we get out of here right now."

Her: "I'm not waiting 15 minutes. I know that's never a problem for you, but it is a problem for me." 

She turned and darted off to the bathroom, and I stood with our friends as all the people who would be making the left turn in front of us filed by and made their way out to their SUV's. 

I assume that they now think that I have an iron bladder rather than plastic underwear, but, the occasion did cause me to do a quick unconscious systems check. I had a Rearz Lil' Monster on, which is a medium weight diaper, but under bulky jeans and a jacket that hangs down to my hips. It seemed unlikely that they were in any way paying attention to my equatorial zone.

However, I tend to worry about "information stack-up"... in my mind, it works somewhat the way "error stack-up" works to cause air disasters. A tired copilot, a faulty airspeed reading on one sensor, a bit more weight on board than the manifest suggests, a captain who ate a bad tuna roll... none of these would, by themselves, doom an aircraft. One imagines that the captain was utterly mystified as to how he ended up pinned to the ceiling in the lavatory, pants around his ankles, by mounting the negative g-force.   

So it goes with information stack-up: Sherri almost never gets up to go to the washroom. Sherri always wears bulky trousers. Sherri takes a backpack everywhere. Sherri's wife makes wisecracks about the call of nature not applying to him. Throw in an errant diaper line, a bulge that catches the light just right, a crinkle, a wink of white plastic below a shirt, or, God forbid, a whiff of something (though I work very hard to prevent THAT)... and, survey says... Sherri's wearing a diaper. 

The conclusion that all of these divergent clues might point to is mercifully never front of mind, for most of us. I know that you folks would sleuth it out in a heartbeat, but also, that most people would not. But I can't help but cogitate on it. However, this is the path I've chosen. Caveat emptor. 

[jeremy12312]

If it makes you feel any better, friends that already knew I wore diapers, at all, were simply shocked that I had been 24/7 around them for the past couple years. Never suspected a thing, never saw anything. 

[Kif]

I guess it comes with the territory ?

Everytime I shuffle off suddenly to the restroom at the office, purse in hand and shrinking a bit into my clothes, I can't help but wonder if one day somebody will connect the dots.

There's not many women at my workplace...and the ones that are there don't have big purses, they have backpacks...and they only come out when they arrive or when they leave. And they don't run to the bathroom with them, blushing...and  and they deeefinitely don't wait in front of a very specific restroom door if it's occupied while the others are free...

I guess all you can do is hope people react decently. ?

 

[Kawaharu]

23 minutes ago, jeremy12312 said:

If it makes you feel any better, friends that already knew I wore diapers, at all, were simply shocked that I had been 24/7 around them for the past couple years. Never suspected a thing, never saw anything. 

That's like that with me as well. I've worn diapers for so long that people that know me are shocked that I am in diapers.

[oznl]

17 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

Her: "I'm not waiting 15 minutes. I know that's never a problem for you, but it is a problem for me."

Occam's razor says she has a weak bladder.  The truth is overwhelmingly the supposition that requires the least number of "ifs".  The other "errors" in your stack-up are rooted in your (understandable) paranoia rather than objective evidence ?

Irrespective of what we may choose to employ for underwear, we must NEVER challenge the continence capacity of our fairer-sex partners.  Just roll with the demands.  I've done my turns at being last out the concert venue car park despite painstakingly positioning the car close to the boom gates...

 

[Little Sherri]

I've once again met for lunch with a fellow traveler from this strange highway, the gentlemen I spoke of previously, with whom I share some loose professional overlap. I can confirm that he's still eminently and reassuringly normal. The "D" word only made a couple of appearances during our wide-ranging conversations, which took place across a table over ethnic food. My experiences with meeting people in person whom I've met on the internet, at a grand total of two visits with one individual, so far remains unsullied; I may be the only person ever to have said that. Your mileage may vary. I'm envisioning confidently trying to do this again with someone else, based on my "streak" of good experiences, and finding myself dragged into a van and taken to "Daddy's Dungeon of Domination", from which I have to fight my way out, in the process finding myself charged with aggravated assault, and, propositioning. 

My wife's elderly uncle is staying with us for a week. I actually quite like the guy, something which I cannot say for all of her relatives, but, he has taken me back in time, in terms of the protocols I am forced to employ. No more wandering down to the kitchen in a big printed diaper to get my wife another glass of sparkling water. And, I either have to stay in jeans over plastic diapers, or, move to the more comfortable athletic garb that I usually prefer in the evenings, but, over cloth-backed products that I do not prefer, because athletic pants over plastic diapers tends to result in a concert of crinkles and crunches that I normally can entirely ignore, but that would provoke quizzical glances from him, I'd imagine. 

He also likes to walk around my house and look at stuff. He's quite fascinated with our pantry, and, with the HVAC and brewing equipment in our basement... in the same room as my 10 boxes of diapers. However, prohibiting him from that area would only provoke curiosity. Instead, I'm trying to get him to focus on my garage. Maybe I'll pretend there's something wrong with my lawn tractor, and set him loose on it. 

Sometimes he comes up to my office and, you know, watches me, while idly thumbing through one of my books. Which of course precludes my sitting around up here in just a diaper, as well. At least my screen faces away from the couch, so I can still drop in on this site occasionally. Sigh.