24/7 startups, and unexpected pitfalls?

[Little Sherri]

I had to blow out the drenched Caboose (and rinse off my drenched caboose) at about 4:00 PM yesterday in order to run an errand. I got one very minor, coaster-sized press-out leak at the right rear, but I was wearing only the diaper, and sitting on a towel, so no harm done. Out of curiosity, I decided to weigh myself with the diaper on and off; we got a new bathroom scale that seems to be more accurate and have a higher resolution than our previous 20-year-old digital scale, which would produce results that diverged by a couple of pounds if you stepped on it twice in 10 minutes, but seemed to employ an algorithm that allowed it to "know" if you were trying to confirm its accuracy via repeatedly weighing yourself, because if you, for example, stood on the thing in a soaked diaper, or, say, jeans and a sweater, and then you took any or all of the above off, and weighed yourself again too soon, it would give you the same result it gave you last time. 

Whereas the new scale, were I to take a sweater off while I was standing on it, would drop my weight by 1.4 lbs as soon as the sweater hit the floor. So, I stepped on it in the pendulous Critter Caboose, and then I removed said diaper, and stepped on it again, and got a result 5.5 lbs lower. I don't know what a Critter Caboose weighs dry, but it's a hell of a lot less than a pound. Even if we say it's half a pound, that's 5 lbs, or approximately 2.25 KG of fluid, so, 2.25 litres, approximately (I know one of you out there knows the SG of pee but I haven't bothered to correct for that...). I suspect that a dry Caboose probably weighs about 200 grams or so, so a half pound is not an absurd deduction. 

All of which tells me that I would have to stand on my head to get any more fluid into it without a commensurate quantity of fluid coming out - there was a good dry patch at my lower back, but that was inaccessible without subverting gravity, as far as I could tell.  

It remained comfortable to the end, and, I got 20 hours of use out of one diaper - that's a commanding performance by any measure. But ISO ratings aren't worth the ink they're printed with. 

[oznl]

9 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

 (I know one of you out there knows the SG of pee but I haven't bothered to correct for that...).

Assuming no dehydration, I believe it to fall within a typical range of 1.005 to 1.01 so probably not worth correcting unless you're launching it into low earth orbit and working the celestial mechanics.

9 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

I suspect that a dry Caboose probably weighs about 200 grams or so, so a half pound is not an absurd deduction.

For a "large", 239 grams you're welcome...

[Little Sherri]

Somewhat reluctantly, I have begun "The Experiment." The one I was talking about earlier, based on the premise that if I want to talk knowledgably about the experience of not just "wearing diapers", but, "living in diapers", the I need to know what the other side of the fence looks like - the side where people use their diapers for everything. People with commercial drivers licenses, so to speak. Heavy hauling. 

Normally, I only use my baby pants for #2, except on very rare occasions - exceedingly rare. I just find dealing with the aftermath to be too much work. While "going" whenever you want to might define convenience for some people, spending 15 minutes in the shower, and having to truck the debris directly to the garage for entombment along the lines of what is usually done with radioactive waste, is not convenient. I can't put torched diapers in my diaper can; it's "off" scents are barely contained as it is, causing me to empty it regularly, lest it irritate my wife. If it started smelling ghastly, along the lines of an unlicensed funeral home, well, I might end up on the refuse heap with the diapers. 

But she is away for a stretch. However I am still going to transport dead soldiers straight to their final resting place, with no wake, because my daughter is home, and she prefers our shower stall to her tub-with-a-shower-in-it, so, olfactory discretion is called for. 

I'm still not sure how I'm going to have this test period play out - am I going to just go, when I get an inkling that I need to? Or, will I wait until I have to? I'm not sure. I'll probably have to subvert nature at least some of the time, because I'm on the hook for running all the errands and pick-ups and drop-offs, and I'm not going to shake hands with the dance parents, for example, while sitting on a loaf. So, if I think I might end up backing myself into a corner, I'll expedite the process, I guess. 

This also changes the landscape with respect to diaper selection. For example, I'm in a Mega Barnyard right now. I put it on this morning, after binning a soaked Rearz Splash that I'd slept in. I did it on autopilot because I was up early to drive my daughter to school. However, this diaper could easily last me until the end of the day. If my daughter gets a ride back with a friend, such that the only public appearances I have to make are to take the dog out, I might be able to ride this diaper out until it's late enough to get ready for bed. But not if I go nuclear in it, obviously. So, should I be going with lesser baby pants, knowing that they may get cut down in their prime?

Already, this is complicated. Also, I usually enjoy stretches in cloth diapers when I have the house to myself, but I'm not going to do "that" in cloth diapers, am I? The aftermath would be like self-flagellation, punishment for my sins. The laundry machine might revolt. 

I don't know how long I'll stick this out. We'll see. As always, my hat is off to those of you who do this for a living. If any of you reading this do that, and wear cloth diapers, I'd be interested to hear how you manage it - it seems like an awful lot of work. 

 

[jeremy12312]

Latex gloves and BOS odor-proof bags.  The glove lets you take big wipes at first without worrying about getting your hand dirty, and I have stored radioactive dirty diapers in a BOS bag in my diaper backpack in hotel rooms until there's a good opportunity to take them to an outside garbage, with my extremely squicked-out wife none-the-wiser.

I've gotten messy changes down to about 3-4 minutes until wipes are coming back spotless clean.

[FretaBWet]

I like you try not to use my diaper for #2 but I suspect it happens to me more often then you. When I do have a #2 emergency it's usually because I'm soft and loose due to food I've eaten and usually the odor that goes along with that is very bad. What I do normally is change in our bedroom as I have diapers and wipes in my bedside table drawer so it's very convenient. When it's a #2 accident I always change in the bathroom. We keep a package of baby wipes on the toilet tank so I just need to take a clean dip along and I'm all set. Even if we have a visitor this works because if I weren't in diapers  and used the toilet rather than my plastic covered underwear the bathroom would still stink which is why we keep a can of air freshener on the toilet too. Nobody using the bathroom afterward would think I pooped my diaper because it's normal to have a stink for a while after using the toilet for #2. What would be hard to explain is why your bedroom stinks.

Hugs,

Freta

[ozziebee]

There are 4 ways you can go about the act of pooping your diaper:

1) Do nothing. Dont clench, dont fight it, just let it happen. This is similar to how you’d react when weeing - ignoring it, keeping things relaxed. 

2) React like a toddler would. When you get an urge, you push it along at the first instance. I do this as I find it painful to try to fight and hold it.  It does mean that I may be changing again an hour after a nappy change…

3) You fight the urge, clamp up, and attempt to hold it until scheduled nappy change, then allow yourself to do it.  The problem with this approach is to how long your prepared to fight the urges and hold it - what happens if you get an urge to poop an hour after you’ve just changed?

4) You fight it like (3) above, and do it in the toilet at nappy change. 

I get uncomfortable and experience pain if I try holding for too long. I suspect that doing it toddler style may accelerate detraining bowel habits, as your body will eventually instinctively just push.

As for cloth nappies, do you remember those bamboo liners that I suggested you and Oz try to help with wicking? Those bamboo liner sheets are designed for this purpose - lining the nappy so if you poop, you can peel the liner off the cloth nappy, dump the poop in the toilet, and dispose of the liner. 

[oznl]

For cloth, as @ozziebee has mentioned, liners are good.  Infant sized terry cloth square nappies (cheap and abundant) also make good liners.  They can be sacrificially bombed with bleach if necessary.

A hand shower (if you have one) is very good for rinsing those nappies before soaking.

It IS a lot of work when it happens which is why I usually don't choose for it to happen but love my cloth nappies and I don't always get that choice these days.

[Moochie]

14 hours ago, jeremy12312 said:

Latex gloves and BOS odor-proof bags.  The glove lets you take big wipes at first without worrying about getting your hand dirty, and I have stored radioactive dirty diapers in a BOS bag in my diaper backpack in hotel rooms until there's a good opportunity to take them to an outside garbage, with my extremely squicked-out wife none-the-wiser.

I've gotten messy changes down to about 3-4 minutes until wipes are coming back spotless clean.

Same for me, I can change and get clean in minutes, unless I have a diaper blow-out, then cleaning up is more labor intensive. This morning's wet and poopy diaper is rather firm and cleaning up will be easy.

[Little Sherri]

I have not elected to wear cloth diapers during this short-term adventure, yet. However, even in disposables, this is a lot of work. I'll spare you the gory details, but, I will say I have the aftermath protocol on a performance improvement plan, and the time involved has been falling. 

What I've been doing so far is following a hybrid go-when-I-truly-need-to and go-when-it-is-wise-to-do-so system.

In the first scenario, if I have the day and the house to myself, I wait until I'm approaching "this needs to happen" territory, to avoid two or three act plays, were I to take the first twinge as a green light. I don't want to burn through four nappies a day, nor sit in a desecrated one for hours in service to frugality. Thus, the event, when it occurs, probably won't occur again for a while. Then, if my diaper is already close to the end of its mean time before failure rating, I'll go clean up fairly quickly. If this happens in a diaper with some runway left in front of it, I might stew for a bit, until it gets too distracting or I'm closing on the need to go do something that would not be enhanced by having a load on board. 

In the second, more common scenario, I know that I could probably do the deed, and I also know that I'm scheduled to spend, say, a couple of hours at the dance studio or whatever, so, I'll subvert nature possibly taking its course at an inconvenient time, either by going early, or, I'll commit to hold it - something I'm good at - until I'm circumstantially in the clear. The latter of the two approaches in theory carries some risk - it certainly would for the truly continence-challenged. But so far, I'm getting away with it. 

I don't think this is a road I'm going to stay on, though. But I am learning some stuff, and considering factors that were not part of my nappy calculous before. 

[Little Sherri]

I'm wearing a blast from the past this morning - a Bambino Magnifico. I had believed that these were discontinued, because during a previous perusal of their site, I saw no reference to them, but, I just had another look, and they are there again. I bought these ones a LONG time ago, from Rearz, back when they carried Bambino products alongside their own. The most notable thing about them is their construction, which I would liken to an XL version of a Huggies Little Mover, with the stretchy wings and hook/loop fasteners, but on a plastic cover with a kind of mesh landing zone treatment. 

I haven't worn these in a long time, because I bought them in medium, back when I could fit into a number of medium products - most of the Rearz lines, for example. But Rearz shrank their medium diapers, and I expanded my waistline, so these days the only medium products I can wear are the MegaMax, which is cut generously, and, the "regular/medium" size of the Tena ProSkin Stretch (or ProStretch Skin?)  - the large of those is positively of bariatric proportions. Meanwhile, my most recently purchased boxes of Rearz are in their size 11 - IE, XL rather than L, mostly because they also shrank their large offerings. 

But, I've slimmed down just a tad, so I decided to see if these would fit, and with the stretch inherent in their design, they do fit. Sort of. They're riding a bit low up front, so I have to watch for wicking or front spill-over. Not having any pants on at least means that damage would be confined to my t-shirt, were it to occur. 

I have abandoned ship on my "toilets are for other people" project this morning, because we watched the Canadian Super Bowl last night (the Grey Cup), and I ate something - possibly wings, or some other appetizer, that disagreed with me, so right now I'm visiting the porcelain throne with some frequency, and I'd be blowing through diapers at a furious rate - not the conditions under which to wear a somewhat pricey super diaper like a Magnifico, even an old one. 

I found out about this little problem in my intestines at about 5 this morning when I woke up feeling the need to go to the washroom, and was somewhat irritated, because I'd really prefer to not have to wake up for that anymore, but then I realized that in addition to some demand in the #1 department, there was a pending request for a #2 release, and I sort of felt like allowing #1 was going to probably cause #2 to take the same liberty. I looked at the clock. 5:01 AM. If I got up to go to the bathroom like a big boy, the dog was going to expect to have a similar opportunity, and then the day would be underway, the seductive confines of the bedding abandoned for the frosty embrace of a below-zero morning. I sighed. 

I was wearing a critter caboose that was already a good bit wet because I'd been wearing it for the latter part of the previous evening, while drinking beer and watching two teams I don't really care about vie for gridiron supremacy. I shrugged, and okayed the #1, which notably increased the urgency of the #2 request, so, somewhat reluctantly, I gave a little push, and THAT, ladies and gentlemen, was all the encouragement the troops down there needed to go rushing down the embankment. 

I immediately thought, "Oh, that may have been a mistake", but I had the bed to myself (thank God), so I closed my eyes and tried to recall what I'd been dreaming about when I woke up. Amazingly - because I don't have a lot of experience sleeping in a loaded diaper - I fell asleep almost right away, and had weird dreams I can't recall, but that perplexed me - I only remember being perplexed, but nothing else stuck, when my alarm went off. 

I immediately remembered what I'd done, and briefly questioned the reality of the memory - had it all been a dream? But shifting in bed produced tactile feedback consistent with how I'd documented the early morning's goings on. Sigh. I didn't have time to deal with it - I needed to get my daughter to school, a task which involves a short drive to a spot where she is met by a bus. I pulled jeans on, and hoped that she would be half asleep and not terribly observant, and that my diaper's plastic seals would contain offensive off-gassing for the very short time we had to occupy a confined space. The windows being covered in frost helped - I motored them down in order to see better, which had the side benefit of forcibly ventilating the car. 

Having dropped her off, I went back to the house, made coffee, sat down on the already thoroughly-compressed mess I'd made, and tried to think through what my plan was going to be. It felt bad down there, and, it felt like there was more bad to come. That diaper was done for, and I needed a shower. Ergo, I might as well finish the job - I thought - so rather than waiting for an increase in urgency, I just went for it. What happened next convinced me that my experiment needed to come to an end, at least temporarily. If THIS is what the morning's forecast holds, I thought, I'll be four diapers in by noon. 

So, here I am, post shower, in a diaper with tabs that are easy to remove and replace, waiting for this storm to pass. I'm not even really using it, because although I can produce the occasional little dribble, I invariably pee when I go #2, and, it has become obvious to me, at least this morning, there is more than a passing chance that I'll go #2 if I try to go #1. So, this diaper is mostly a decorative insurance policy right now. 

[jeremy12312]

5 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

and that my diaper's plastic seals would contain offensive off-gassing

No chance in hell. You got clocked, for sure.

Toddler diapers fit their bodies better than ours fit ours, and how many times were you ever surprised during a diaper change that it was unknowingly messy?

[Little Sherri]

The experiment is over. I haven't fully sifted through the data (and today was garbage day, so much of the "data" has now left the property, thankfully...), but my preliminary conclusion is that fecal incontinence would be damned inconvenient, and my hat is off to those of you who live with that, or live like you live with that. I got better at the cleanups, but, they were never something that I looked forward to. I used about a third of a tub of diaper cream, and, I averaged 4 diapers a day, instead of 2 - 3. Sometimes, a fifth was called for. I staved off diaper rash, and, I don't think I ever got caught out by emitting onerous odors - but, I was really careful about that. 

The care required was essentially part of what ended the experiment - over the weekend, I got busy, and I realized that my attempt to replicate what it would be like to only use diapers had become a pantomime. If I was making appointments to go up into my washroom at specific times, to then turn on the fan, open up the New York Times, and crap standing up, rather than sitting down, followed by the aforementioned livestock-scale cleanup routine... what was I really doing? Using the washroom. So, I might as well reduce my landfill footprint and my diaper expenditure, and just go back to using the potty.

I did learn some stuff about life on the other side of that fence, though. You have to be vigilant and good at planning, product choice definitely matters, and, while it's possible to live a productive and full life, in a full diaper, managing wetting yourself a couple of times an hour is way, way less involved than managing messing yourself a couple of times a day, particularly if you can't chose the time or place. 

Later today, I'm going back for my second suit fitting. I don't think I managed to mention the first one - too much going on. I've done this before, but it's been a while, and while I've now worn diapers to medical appointments and through airport security enough times to be able to get past the anxiety of occupying a few moments with someone knowing what I'm wearing under my pants, the thought of getting professionally fitted for a suit again still got my blood pressure up. 

But, it had to be done - there was no point buying a suit that wouldn't fit over a diaper, and, anyway, I don't own any underwear. 

Walking into the store for the first fitting, I wasn't sure whom I wanted to deal with. Would it be better to contend with a guy in his 30's with a $100 haircut, dressed like he's out for martinis with Elon Musk, or, the razor-keen eyes of a woman who sells men clothing for a living? I ended up being assigned the latter, although she was younger than I was expecting - the women who have sold me suits before always had the feel of retired real estate agents trying to keep up with the payments on the Lexus they bought when times were good.

This young lady was charming, helpful, and not at all pushy... but that made me feel more self-conscious. I'd worn a medium-weight, plastic diaper - a white Rearz Essential. I thought that there was no way in hell anyone would possible end up seeing the diaper itself, even if they saw evidence of it, but I decided to forego winged unicorns or cartoon characters anyway, just in case. I wanted whatever I bought to be tailored to fit over a usefully-sized diaper, on the theory that if I bounced up a little in my own proportions, it would probably still be wearable over a slim diaper. Looking at her, smiling at me with a measuring ribbon in her hand, I briefly considered abandoning my mission, and coming back later to hopefully be assisted by Giuseppe, a guy in a tux in his 60's who would judge me by my shoes and not say much beyond how wise it would be to get a couple of shirts and some dress socks. 

But I was pressed for time, so I pressed ahead. I told her what I wanted - grey or navy, not black - and she started by taking quick measure of a couple of my dimensions. I was still in frumpy jeans and an oversized button down shirt, so I barely blinked during that process. But then she came back with a couple of selections, and into the fitting rooms I went, to view myself in my diaper in 360 degrees of mirrored feedback. Pulling the first pair of suit pants on, they felt... a tad snug. I felt like the lady had been paying me a complement... yes, thank you, I have lost weight, just not that much weight, not yet. I tucked my shirt into my waistband, threaded the belt on... and had to leave the cocoon of privacy for essentially a stage in the middle of the store. I was wincingly aware that I had a diaper on, in a way I haven't been in quite a while. The lady smiled, and she tugged at the waistband to correct how I'd cinched it up with the belt, and then she said that the jacket size was good, but the pants were maybe a little constricting. She went and got me another pair, which I pulled on. These ones were notably too long at the inseam, but, they draped a little better over my puffy midsection. 

I went through the same process with a second suit, but this time, we jumped straight to the larger pants. I indicated my preference for the second one, and then she began to tug and stretch and mark and pin, working her way around me like I was a manikin in a store window, which, in some sense, I guess I was. I felt my pants drawn up against my diaper, and then them being allowed to drape a little, a couple of times as she marked areas with a piece of chalk. I could feel my cheeks turning slightly pink. 

And then it was done. I probably should have shopped more - my wife would have had me try on about five more suits, before agreeing that we should buy the first one - but my heart just wasn't in it. I paid for the suit and the alterations and got out of there. 

Tonight, I am going back to check the fit, and then if everything is in good order, I'm taking it home. Hopefully, Giuseppe is manning the front counter, and I can go put it on in a cubicle, decide the fit is fine (perhaps incorrectly), take it off, and walk out of there without a second runway walk being required...  

[Little Sherri]

I got the guy in his 30's with the $100 haircut who was dressed like he was going to a cocktail party at Elon Musk's place. However he paid exactly zero attention to me, which was fine. I put the suit on, confirmed that it fit more or less like it should, took it off, and left. 

The whole experience did leave me wondering, not for the first time, how common it is to fit a garment like a suit over a diaper? My experiences passing through airport security in plastic underpants has suggested to me that, at least there, protective underpants are "not unheard of", but the traveling public is a different demographic than the suit-buying public. 

My beloved has returned from her trip away with her friends. It was interesting to note that her absence, while not lamented, per se, wasn't a thing to be savoured, either. Don't get me wrong, I like having the house to myself for a bit here and there, but, first of all, my youngest was still home (when she wasn't in school), and second, the dog, meals, kid Ubering, and any other task that she takes on the majority of, fell to me. But, whereas in the "before times" when I wasn't open about wearing diapers, a few days solo (or at least, sleeping solo) would have been water in the desert, now, it wasn't a big deal. I got to do my little experiment with operating only using diapers, but, while interesting, that wasn't exactly "fun". I don't know if I'd do it again - I have to assess my data and see if I had any major insights or if I'm missing some epiphany I think I might arrive at if given more time wandering that wilderness.

I did note a very slight uptick in "self-consciousness" when peeling off my daytime clothing, and exposing my diaper. I'd been doing that in private for a few days, but, more significant, at least in my mind, was my thought, in the moment, that she wouldn't have really spent any time with diapered adults while she was away... nor any kids. Would she be reminded anew of the peculiarity of the situation? Me wearing diapers has become the not-so-new normal around here. I haven't been in underpants that don't fall into the "diaper" category in years. I don't wear a lot of pull-ups, but they are diapers, in my classification system. (Though I've had arguments with my daughter about this - she is adamant that pull-ups are not diapers...)

It didn't help that I was wearing a Rearz Daydreamer. I hadn't planned it that way, it's just how I ended up dressed - the timing of the day's events had put me into my overnight diaper before I went to the airport to collect her. Bulky winter clothing meant that I didn't really worry about having super-duty baby pants on - I barely had to get out of the car in any case. But the Daydreamer is, first of all, a gloriously printed ABDL diaper - it's not subtle. Second, the cover is semitransparent, so it keeps no secrets. It hadn't seen much use but was still, you know, a bit discoloured in the business area. 

Regardless, I took a breath, and got ready for bed, which included trekking back and forth to the washroom in the aforementioned diaper. She was talking about her trip the entire time and didn't seem to blink. 

Now, it's my turn to go away for a few days. It wasn't originally planned to occur this way, but an opportunity came up to go see a buddy over the US Thanksgiving holiday, so I'll be throwing myself into the maw of a couple of gigantic airports, on what is usually referred to as the busiest travel day of the year. While wearing diapers, of course. Wish me luck. 

[Hannah YMS]

On 3/23/2020 at 1:17 PM, Little Sherri said:

So, how is self-isolation working for everyone? So far around here, it has allowed me to cautiously wear my medium-duty diapers throughout the day, which I am enjoying, but my largest ones have to be reserved for overnight - there is just no hiding a size-L Barnyard or Elite, even under over-sized jeans. The kids being home all the time means that I always have to have something on over my diaper, and usually an article of "day wear" - my pajama pants and other lounge-wear don't adequately camouflage my diapered status. I thought that I would be on here a lot, but someone is constantly coming in and out of my office - just now my daughter barged in to show me something she'd drawn. I may have to put a sign up on my office door, for, in addition to idle musings about my plastic underwear preferences, I also am sometimes on the phone with customers. 

In other news, my wife has been saying the "d"-word a lot more casually lately; we were talking about the hoarding of supplies, and she mentioned that she'd come across my diaper stash while organizing in the basement, and felt that I was adequately stocked for the moment. That conversation actually went fairly well - I was worried that if she ever really gave it a look, she might start asking questions about how much money I had tied up in baby pants. In another instance, I was bending over, leaning well into our wine cabinet in order to conduct an "end times" inventory, and she casually pointed out that my "diapers were showing" - my jeans had ridden down in the back. As an aside, I don't know if the word "diaper" really needs to be pluralized or not. I usually refer to my "diaper" or to "wearing a diaper", rather than "wearing diapers", whereas some people, my spouse included, treat the word more like "pants", for example. One wouldn't say that they were wearing "a pant". 

I'm rapidly coming up on the one year anniversary of deciding to try wearing diapers for a weekend, in preparation for what I thought might be a few weeks in diapers in the summer of last year. I embarked on this journey on the weekend of March 30th, intending at first just to go 24/7 for a weekend, then, I decided to try and see if I could stick with it for a couple of week days, and then a few, and then, by the following weekend, I realized that, first, I needed to buy more diapers, and second, that I really didn't relish the idea of ending my "experiment" yet, and going back to wearing boxers, and, third, that I needed to do some R&D and find a daytime diaper I could wear under anything. Since then, I've worn pretty much everywhere I've gone, except to the gym - day, night, workday, holiday, and in several countries and on two continents. 

So far, I still derive irrational joy several times a day from this adventure; I still get a thrill when I buy diapers, unpack them and put them away, as well as when I pack them for an errand or a trip, or just pull one out in preparation for a change. Lying in bed, reading a book, I still get a lift when I shift positions and hear crinkling or feel a slight dampness. I still debate whether to change, or let one ride for another hour; on the one hand, the feel of a good diaper, when it's damp, is unparalleled, but, on the other hand, a fresh diaper feels great. I still feel slightly electric whenever my spouse brings the topic up. So, as I close in on my one year "diaper-versary", I don't think that I'm going to be changing course. 

If I were asked to compile a wish list, I would first of all have to note that, amazingly, a lot things that would have been on it last year have been scratched off. One thing I do want to find is a medium-weight plastic diaper that I can wear under anything; I've grown quite used to my cloth-backed Prevails, but this year has taught me that I really prefer a plastic diaper, if I have the option.

Another thing I want to do is socialize with other like-minded (and like-attired) individuals, if I can figure out a "safe" way to do that, (once the apocalypse is over). Ideally, without romantic overtones - I just want to communicate with people on this wavelength, but I'm not looking for my first gay tryst, or to test my appeal on women twenty years younger than I am...

 

Feel free to PM. No gay tryst here. Been following your journey for a while, so as I read this, I'm like, hell, why not? Hehe.

[Little Sherri]

I have some catching up to do with work, so I won't belabour you with an elongated post right now. A quick summary of the weekend would go thusly: I managed to get herded through the metal detector line at the airport on the way down, which seems to happen to me about 66% of the time, but on the way back, I had to go through the genital scanner, which of course revealed an "area of interest" just below my waist, which was, of course, the diaper I was wearing. As always, under such circumstances, I wear the most boring slim, quiet medical diaper I can. That never really helps with respect to it not being noticed by equipment designed to view your soul, but, at least it's the least interesting, least likely to start a conversation, category of baby pants. I carry a better diaper in my laptop bag and I put it on past security. The diaper in the bag has never attracted any notice. 

I also can't wear a onesie; well, "can't" might be putting it too stridently, but, I feel like I'd be tempting the fates if I did - that that would be the time they want to take me to the private room for a closer look, and now I have to reach way, way down into my pants to unsnap my diaper shirt for their entertainment, rather than them seeing the top 1/10th of a diaper and saying "we've seen enough". Or, I'll win the TSA lottery and end up in the metal detector line, only to have the snaps on said diaper shirt draw the ire of the electromagnetic field I'm strolling through. 

The downside to no onesie is that, while my belt is going through the X-ray machine on a tray, my pants, now looser, sometimes try to follow the Siren's call of gravity, while I hold my hands up in mock surrender, in the scanner. Once on the plane, and in my long-haul diaper, I'm also left with concerns about waistband diaper reveals when bending over to retrieve the earbud that I dropped, or to tie my shoes. On the trip back, I had the good (and exceedingly rare) fortune of having a row to myself, and it being late (or, technically, really really early), I tried to take advantage of it to recline on what was, essentially, a park bench that moves at the 0.8 the speed of a bullet - but, having no blanket with me, and wishing to use my jacket as a pillow, I found my hand going to my lower back every time I shifted, and more than once, it landed on unconcealed plastic. Although I doubt anyone noticed or cared. 

My trip took me to my buddy's place - the first person, outside of my spouse, that knew (because I told him) that I wore diapers. My hand had been forced because of fascist trash disposal polices within his HOA, and, the fact that he was doing extensive renovations, and so had been cited for improper disposal practices, hence he was picking through the household's leavings like an archeologist on a daily basis. The renovations are over, and this time, I was pretty sure that when I tucked a bagged diaper into his trash can, it wasn't going to be exhumed, but, what's done is done. It was interesting to hang out there, pretty much like I do at home, as a person who wears diapers, and it's not "the big secret." His wife clearly knew about it, because she's in charge of decor, and specifically mentioned that she'd put a larger garbage can in my bathroom. I felt my cheeks flush slightly when she said that, but quickly shook it off... this is what you wanted, right? The diapered life? Well, politely disposing of diapers at other people's houses is part of of the buffet on that mad cruise ship, if you don't want to live like a hermit. 

I conducted myself entirely the same way I would have had nobody known, of course. I didn't wander around in a diaper, and I made sure my shirts were tucked in, and I was very conservative about capacity to ensure no spot-cleaning would be required. I probably slept a little better knowing that, in the event of a fire, tornado, or home invasion, at least the sight of me diving through a window in my usual sleep attire (diaper & shirt) would be slightly less shocking to the kind people I was staying with, than it would have been to most. 

They put very nice bedding on the guest bed, they invited me into their hot tub and their pool - in short, they didn't treat me any differently. Which is as it should be, but, one doesn't know going into these things, how they are going to work out - it's a bit of a leap of faith. Your mileage may vary, but, in my experience so far, at least with very good friends, the people who know that I wear protective undergarments seem not to have changed their behaviour in the slightest. I'm still on the invite list. They haven't bought plastic sheets. 

I hadn't thought of this previously, but, if I ever reversed course on this absurd journey, I guess I'd then have to come up with some kind of explanation for that, IE, not wearing diapers anymore. Assuming anyone noticed, asked, or cared. "Uh, are you sure? The couch is new... I mean, if you're more comfortable wearing one, certainly, we're comfortable with that..." 

[Little Sherri]

I have a doctor's appointment this morning, but the event doesn't require much forethought, because it would be very unlikely that this particular branch of medical specialty would concern itself with what is going on inside my pants, ergo, I can wear whatever I want. 

My wife is once again pointing out that I've gone another year without using any of the paramedical benefits my employment affords me, chiefly RMT and or chiropractic services. She is proposing to book me a couple of massages before the end of the year, which in theory, I should agree with - I like a good massage, and they're supposed to be good for you, relieving stress, etc. But, that is one venue where I haven't yet learned to be comfortable in a diaper. In the before times, I would strip down to my boxer shorts, and the RMT would generally tuck the sheets in around the private areas, but, they would work in pretty close proximity to real estate that is typically covered by a diaper, around the behind in particular. The lower back and the gluteus maximus muscles typically come into play, which was not a concern before.

However, if I'm going to be wearing a diaper...  I'd definitely wear shorts over it. I have no intention of stripping down to a Mermaid's Tale and becoming a humorous work story for that person. It would be a slim white diaper, I'd imagine. However, massages are supposed to be relaxing, and if I'm going to be stressed about laying there while some man or woman works around the unacknowledged but obvious presence of my diaper... maybe I'd be more relaxed if I just didn't bother? It would be different if I were suddenly beset with crippling lower back pain - then, I'd just have to man-up (or baby-up) and take my medicine. But since right now, the undertaking is entirely optional... hmmm. 

I'd be curious to hear about any of your experiences doing this. Maybe I'll formulate a survey question about it, and mine the hive mind. 

[Little Sherri]

A quick couple of notes again this morning... work to do, month end etc... 

For those of you with dogs, have you ever found yourself wetting when the dog goes pee? Maybe it's the timing - first thing in the morning for him, first thing in the morning for me, but when he runs over to that first telephone pole and cuts loose, sometimes I suddenly find myself doing so as well, almost like that phenomenon with the running tap. 

My experimental journey on the dark side of wearing diapers is over, and there hasn't been any physiological hangovers from letting myself go for a few days, as far as I can see, but the "latchkey urgency" phenomenon that so many people speak of on the wetting side has curiously appeared on the dry side, a little bit. Nothing catastrophic, but I've been out and about and knew that I needed to go, a couple of times, and then when I park on my driveway and walk up to my door, all of a sudden, it's "Good Christ, I gotta get to the bathroom!" And then, of course, the little devil standing on my shoulder says "Hey, idiot, you're wearing diapers... what's the big deal? Relax..."

To which the angel on my other shoulder, though drunk, stirs enough to say "You're wife is likely sitting on your bed watching TV... are you really going to deal with THAT in the bathroom eight feet from her, without her noticing something? The bathroom fan is not commercial grade..." 

[tuffy]

2 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

The bathroom fan is not commercial grade...

Perhaps it should be, but then that might make the urges worse 😁

[oznl]

7 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

My experimental journey on the dark side of wearing diapers is over, and there hasn't been any physiological hangovers from letting myself go for a few days, as far as I can see, but the "latchkey urgency" phenomenon that so many people speak of on the wetting side has curiously appeared on the dry side, a little bit. Nothing catastrophic, but I've been out and about and knew that I needed to go, a couple of times, and then when I park on my driveway and walk up to my door, all of a sudden, it's "Good Christ, I gotta get to the bathroom!" And then, of course, the little devil standing on my shoulder says "Hey, idiot, you're wearing diapers... what's the big deal? Relax..."

I’m still trying to work out if my #2 control has degraded more significantly than #1 (due to the appearance of occasional “accidents”) or it’s just that I’m much more acutely aware of this unintended by-product of this journey because of its potential for much greater social cost, or, it is because as you say, there’s a devil sitting on my shoulder telling me that it really doesn’t matter that much as I’m dressed for the occasion…

If it IS physiological rather than psychological, then my experience suggests that you can expect the occasional involuntary "code brown" in your future.  Let's hope that it remains occasional.  It would be deeply ironical if we failed to achieve the urinary incontinence that we embraced but instead through our efforts (or should that be LACK of efforts?) got the variety we had worked to avoid.

[Little Sherri]

Once again pressed for time - the end of the year is always a rush, everyone realizing that if they don't get PO's in and projects underway, next year's pricing will apply... which is terrifying in this inflationary environment, although some of the air is being let out of that situation by, you know, the impending engineered recession. But here we are. 

Anyway, I had a weird diaper dream. I don't know if there is such thing as a "not weird" diaper dream... anyway, I was playing pool with my wife's uncle in what seemed like his basement. It was just he and I. I was wearing a horrendously awful dark mustard coloured sweater and tan pants - just a horrible outfit. This comes into play because I realized at some point that my diaper had leaked over the front, so I started basically keeping the table between her uncle and I, and standing right up against it at all times. There was a very obvious band of wetness across the midriff of my sweater and the top few inches of my pants - they were quite wet. 

At some point, he said something along the lines of "I think we both know it's fairly obvious that you've wet yourself, so don't worry about trying to keep the table in front of you, just play pool...", and I was both shocked, and relieved, in that moment, but it also raised questions. I stepped back from the table to take a shot, but I wondered how I was going to navigate the rest of the evening in soaked clothing, what my wife would think when she found out her uncle saw that I was wet, would anyone else who was there (all upstairs) notice (of course they would), and... did this mean that her uncle knew I wore diapers? He seemed so nonchalant about his observation, and we just continued playing pool, even though I was soaked. Then I woke up. 

[Little Sherri]

This morning I once again experienced the "being in diapers makes things easier" phenomenon. I had a couple of things on my plate; first of all, the house was a mess - the bathrooms needed to be cleaned up, garbage cans emptied, dog hair vacuumed, kitchen tidied. And, second, the reality is that I'm facing my first Christmas where my mom is essentially not here. She's not participating in anything. She doesn't know it's Christmas. We did an early get-together this weekend with my sisters and some of their kids, most of whom are now adults, which was nice, but also somewhat poignant, because it underlined that things have changed forever. 

But, in the meantime, the house needed cleaning, in preparation for having people over and putting up decorations. So, I dressed for my morning... in a Rearz Barnyard and an old white t-shirt. Well, I was already in the Barnyard - I'd put it on before going to bed. But, for getting dirty and dusty and crawling around toilets and shower stalls, nothing beats a disposable diaper as a disposable outfit. I put some music on, grabbed a bucket full of cleaning supplies, and went to work. 

There was a moment of interesting contrast when my wife, who was getting ready to go out for lunch with some old friends, came into the kitchen dressed in one of her better outfits - call it "sharp casual", and we talked about what we had on for the upcoming week, while she looked her best, and I looked like... a toddler who needed a bath? It was fun to pad around in my puffy diaper, no "emergency pants" stationed nearby, taking care of business.

The dog did slightly rain on my party, by ripping down one of the curtains over the sliding door that faces onto my neighbour's house. The trees between us have lost most of their leaves now, and while it's a fair distance between their place and mine, when they go out with their dog, my dog goes nuts (hence the fallen curtain), and barks his fool head off... which could, I'd imagine, summon someone's gaze. It would still be extremely bad luck for such an event to coincide with me striding past the glass in just my glorious diaper, but, just in case, I always took the long way around the kitchen, keeping the island between me and the window. I'll go fix he curtain at some point, but, that would require pants - going up a ladder in a diaper in front of said window would be similarly ill-advised. And for now, it's a pants-free day. Being able to do chores in my diaper has taken the drudgery out of the work, and inject a little bit of sunshine into an otherwise grey day. 

[Little Sherri]

I have to once again tip my hat to the people at Rearz; I got full value out of that Barnyard I was squishing around in yesterday. When my wife came back from her lunch with her friends, everything in our house was sparkling except me - I was still in my sagging diaper. I'd intended to dump it and take a shower, but I kept coming up with things to do around the house, and then I sat down to cap off a work project, and I just couldn't part ways with it - it was so damned comfortable and it refused to leak. The tabs held fast, and I lost track of time... that's what happens when you're in a good diaper. 

So I was somewhat sheepish when she asked me if I wanted to watch a documentary on Netflix with her. I did want to watch it, but I was a bit self-conscious about how heavy my diaper looked. I tried to determine if I had any "untended toddler" smell about me, but I couldn't detect anything obvious, so, I took a deep breath and sat down on the couch with her; it's pretty rare for me to sit in the living room in just a diaper and a sweatshirt (I'd pulled a sweatshirt on because my office was chilly). We watched about an hour of it, and then she wanted to watch the rest in our room, so I went up with her. 

Normally, walking into the bedroom in damp baby pants, I'd immediately head for my diaper drawer, and then the shower, but she wanted to continue where we'd left off. I did not want to press-out leak into the sheets like I had a few weeks ago, but, that Barnyard really seemed to be holding okay - reclining on the couch had allowed it to use some of the capacity further up the back. So, I climbed into bed. The dog immediately jumped up with us - he's not allowed on the couch but we have an old comforter that we put at the foot of our bed that he's allowed on when we're just chilling. SO, he somewhat hilariously jammed his nose straight into the front of my diaper. Maybe I couldn't smell anything, but his superior olfactory capabilities were not fooled. My wife grabbed him by his collar and said "Leave Daddy's Pampers alone, goofball." I kept my eyes pinned to the TV but felt my cheeks redden. But in a pleasant manner. 

Probably at the other end of the spectrum from the Barnyard is the BeDry, Rearz' new diaper under their Incontrol brand, which caters more to the medical incontinence market than the ABDL side. Anytime they launch a new diaper, I want to try it, but I'd winced when the DayDreamer hit the market at $6 a unit (but still bought some). However, the BeDry (the packaging for which looks a fair bit like the BetterDry/ComfiDry), has a pre-release sale price on it of $102 CAD - for 48 diapers. So, $2 a diaper, more or less. Consider that Depends tabbed diapers sell for $1.75 each up here, and they're basically a fitted plastic bag upholstered with tissue paper, engineered for the terminally ill community. 

But even the regular price of $122 CAD is not bad - assuming the diaper can deliver the typical Rearz medium weight "daytime diaper" range of 8 hours or so. That's $2.50 a unit. 

I think I mentioned this previously, but, I missed their tremendous Black Friday - Cyber Monday sale, with 35% off all products. Normally, I stock up, but, here's the thing... I am stocked up. Very stocked up. And the thought of my wife having to manhandle (womanhandle?), say, four cases of diapers into the house, when my designated basement shelving is already full, were they to arrive before I got back... yeah, she would not have been excited about that. It's fine - they often do a sale after New Years or around Valentine's day. There will be other opportunities. 

But even if I don't buy another diaper, I think I could make it into March at this point, which is my 5 year 24/7 diaperversary... so, it looks like I'm going to make it. 

[Little Sherri]

I've had a couple of notable experiences with respect to my wife over the last 18 hours or so. 

I spent most of yesterday in a Mega Inspire+ , and man, can those things hold a lot. I might have worn it for a true 24 hour shift (bedtime to bedtime) had I not been asked to model the suit I bought for my wife, and also, to try on a few pairs of dress pants I have in inventory to see what fits and what can go. There was no point trying those pants on over a comically swollen super diaper that I would never wear under them in the real world. So, I put on a Rearz Select, the single-tab ones that work okay as a medium-duty diaper around the home base. 

In trying on several pairs of pants, I managed to catch the front of my diaper in the zipper and rip it, which my wife thought was hilarious. However, the containment barrier had been breached, so I slapped a piece of white duck tape over the tear for the rest of the fashion show. (I got told at one point that I looked like "Boss Baby" when I had a suit jacket on over a t-shirt and the diaper.) I ended up watching TV with plastic pants overtop for insurance. 

More significant perhaps were the following revelations... first, upon noting another Rearz order that landed on our doorstep, she asked me if I would please "Pause my automatic reorders" until I'd burned through some of the inventory taking up 2.25 shelving units in our basement. I thought that was interesting... she thinks that the diapers that keep showing up here are coming automatically? Who's choosing the models? Does Rearz get to decide if I'm getting Barnyards or Inspires or Princess Pink's? In a way, this exculpates me... it's not my fault they sent me Mermaid Tales this month... I'm just the victim of an algorithm! It's fascinating to get these glimpses of how her mind works. 

The second occurrence, I am still processing, as it only happened this morning. My wife has a very good friend that she's known since she was a kid; I have a couple of buddies who occupy a similar niche in my ecosystem, people who are more siblings than friends, really. She has told me in previous conversations that this person is her closest confidant, whom she tells "everything." 

I overheard a conversation this morning that I probably wasn't meant to; I wasn't deliberately eavesdropping - I was transporting clothing back and forth to the laundry room, and, I thought, being fairly obvious about it, clomping up and down the stairs with baskets. She was in the kitchen on the phone, and at one point I put a laundry basket down on the dining room table because I saw items that were obviously my daughter's, and there was another basket that was mostly her stuff, so I went to toss like with like, but it left me in earshot of the kitchen, and I guess she thought I'd just walked past and hadn't paused. 

What I heard was along the lines of "That's the way it goes, life hands you stuff that you didn't expect, and you just have to deal with it, right? I didn't think at this stage in the game, I'd still be dealing with diapers, but here we are..." 

That was all I heard. Now, there is a distant, remote possibility that she could have been talking about our younger daughter, I guess - she still has pull-ups in her closet. But, first of all, the frequency with which we've been refreshing those has fallen dramatically. I don't know exactly when or why she wears them, but, I'm sure it's not every night, by a longshot. Second, my wife does not "deal with" my daughter's pull-ups - I'm usually the one who buys them (buying cases of pop or water or bags of dog food or any other bulky items, such as cases of pull-ups, has traditionally been my purview), I'm the one who empties the garbage cans, and, other than that, our daughter is managing them entirely herself - she's not a little kid anymore. Third, the only person who calls the pull-ups "diapers" in this house is me, and only because it's been a running joke between my daughter and I for years. My wife, when she refers to them at all, calls them pull-ups, or "bedtime pants", and my daughter either says "pull-ups" or "Goodnites" when they are spoken of, which is exceedingly rare. 

On the other hand, I have cases of diapers in the basement, a drawer full of diapers in our bedroom, a diaper can in our closet, and last night I was modelling clothes for her over a diaper, and I caught my diaper in my zipper at one point... which leads me to the conclusion that when she said she was "dealing with diapers", she was probably talking about yours truly. SO... she's told her friend? 

[ppdude]

It's your secret that everyone knows. The only one who doesn't know is you. That's usually the way it works. I just told my girl friend that I wear diapers, but she already figured it out. Luckily, she doesn't care.

 

 

 

[FretaBWet]

If the roles were reversed, and she was wearing 24/7 and it was affecting your life without your consent, wouldn't you be seeking some kind of support from your closest friend? Not to out her as that would only make matters public and so much worse but just one person you can vent to or seek some sympathy from. The astounding part is that a highly intelligent person with a good education could be so blind to this for so long. Her friend knowing is just another cost of doing business, in this case doing it in a diaper 😀.

Hugs,

Freta