24/7 startups, and unexpected pitfalls?

[BabyJilly_S]

Interesting.... Have we been deluding ourselves that no one can hear the crinkle over the general background noise of the day?

Certainly a bedroom is generally very quiet, though perhaps your good lady has become attuned (as we are) to the noise ?

 

 

[Little Sherri]

4 hours ago, BabyJilly_S said:

Certainly a bedroom is generally very quiet, though perhaps your good lady has become attuned (as we are) to the noise ?

Good points, both of these. It was quiet in the bedroom, and, I have to admit to not minding that it's obvious that I'm wearing a diaper when it's just her and I in the house - indeed, I'm often wearing just a diaper below the waist, if I can get away with it, but if not, then I'll put a big crinkly diaper under thin pajama pants or whatever, because camouflage is not my concern under those circumstances. Whereas when I'm out installing a sink at a buddy's place or whatever, I wear either cargo shorts made out of heavy cotton, or jeans, both of which really quiet most diapers down a lot. Now, I can still hear my diaper from time to time, but, as you said, I am quite attuned to that frequency, and in my experience, nobody around me seems to have ever given it a second thought. Unless I'm fooling myself. But I wonder if my wife is messing with me, in "incepting" the idea that most people can hear my diaper when I wear plastic ones. But she has my attention now, so I guess her plan is working - I'm putting on another Active Air before I go help a buddy install some trim this evening. 

[jeremy12312]

21 hours ago, oznl said:

No, I can't recall specifically being taught about the American civil war at school

Please to note I was using the phrase “war between the states” as tongue-in-cheek. I’m a northerner through-and-through.

[Little Sherri]

Well, going to bed wet definitely puts one's diaper on one's mind as one slips under the waters of unconsciousness. After feeling self-conscious for a day about the sounds that my diapers were making, and wearing cloth-backed selections, I realized that a life in cloth-backed diapers is no life at all, and I went back to one of my old favourites that I have worn countless times under all circumstances, and never really worried about - the Rearz Lil' Splash. I helped a buddy assemble a home gym, working in a basement with little background noise, and, yes, I could hear my diaper a little bit as I moved around, but, it clearly wasn't registering with him. That, or he already knows I wear diapers, and doesn't care. However he's the type to make lighthearted jabs about this and that, so I think that if he knew I was wearing diapers, sooner or later he'd make a crack about it. Those of you who have been reading this thread for a while may remember when I was sent the disturbing "mystery box" of diaper samples, seemingly apropos of nothing... well, that came from his wife, in response to my having signed him up for a free sample of the Depends for Men underwear-looking godawful pullups, like a year before. The temporal distance was enough that I didn't immediately think of that prank, whereas I had been musing here about wanting to find a gym diaper... and boom, a sample pack of 5 different cloth-backed diapers showed up at my door. You can see how that might get one's mind racing. 

All of which brings me back to my decision, when I got home last night, to just go to bed in the diaper I was in, which by then was at about 50% or so of its capacity. At some point in the night, my brain took the feedback from down below, and crafted a narrative around it, and possibly some of you were "there". In my dream, I was hanging around with a couple of unidentified friends at my place, playing pool, and it dawned on me at some point that I didn't have any pants on - I was wearing what felt like a very bulky and wet diaper, under a long t-shirt. However, this was not one of those "Oh no, I'm on public transit/at the exam/first day of school/etc and I forgot to put pants on" type of dreams - there was no dread. It was just a background reality, and I think that in the dream, the unidentified friends I was with knew that I wore diapers, and it wasn't an issue - that's what makes me think maybe they were indistinct "avatars" for some of you.

Later in the dream, one of them said that the diaper was probably too big to fit pants over, anyway, but that maybe I could have put on a skirt, and I said "Well I'm Scottish, I guess I could wear a kilt..." and that's as far as my memory of it goes. But, while I was lining up a shot at the pool table, I recalled feeling a rush of pee that petered out. In general, in the dream, it felt great to just be in diapers and not be ashamed of it. 

When I woke up this morning, my diaper was pretty wet. I can't say for sure if it was wetter than it was when I went to bed, but... maybe. Two interesting things happened after I got up. First, I was brushing my teeth, and I felt what can only be described as liquid dropping from higher up to a lower point in the "system". I did not lose control, but I suddenly had a very strong urge to urinate, and a feeling that it was going to happen momentarily, regardless of if I did or did not want it to occur. I let it happen, or rather, I didn't stand in its way, but it was a bit disconcerting. There was a great rush, and then it petered out very quickly, but dribbled on for a while and stopped of its own accord. 

My kids were out of the house and my wife, I thought, was gone for the morning as well, so I decided to head down to the kitchen in my sagging aquatic-themed baby pants and make myself a coffee, without bringing any safety shorts with me. So, of course, I was standing in front of the fridge when I heard the side door open, and I froze... there was no getting from the kitchen to the rest of the house without walking past the side door. Did one of the kids forget their lunch? Hmmm... options.... dish towels were too small to attempt covering up with... Newspaper? Garbage bag? But then I heard the jingle of car keys... okay, so it was my wife. I relaxed a bit, but not completely, because I don't often wander the house in just a diaper, and particularly not during the day. That level of undress is mostly reserved for the last couple of hours of the evening, and up in our room. Or when I'm sitting in my office. 

There was nothing to be done about it... I added cream to my coffee and waited. She walked into the kitchen and I said "G'morning... want a coffee?" She replied in the affirmative, and I went about making her one. At some point, I said "I thought you were out this morning.", and she said "Well, apparently." - clearly a commentary on my outfit. But then she said "I just came back to grab something." She took the coffee from me, and I went over and sat back down to read my paper. 

The moment when I was standing in the kitchen listening to her walk towards me sparked a memory, though - not of a specific moment, but rather, of a generalized feeling from the past, an amalgam of a bunch of moments... the best way to describe it would be a "gallows walk" feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was wearing a diaper, I was about to be subjected to someone's judgement, and there was nothing I could do about it, I was helpless. It was the feeling I got in the pit of my stomach when, as kids, we all piled out of the car at a rest stop or a restaurant, in the middle of a long drive somewhere, and we were herded from the private confines of the car, and into the gas station or the dining room or over to a picnic area, and I went from pretty much forgetting that I had a diaper on, under my shorts, to becoming acutely aware of it, as the sun glinted off of 1980's cars rolling slowly across the parking lot, and we entered a public space. Did my butt look puffy? Was my diaper standing up at the back like a flag? Did the front bulge noticeably? Did anyone hear, or figure out what my mom meant, when she asked if I "needed to change"? It was that sudden transition from "private" to "public", like a table cloth being ripped from under a set table by a magician. Would everything settle back into place, or go crashing to the floor? The Japanese probably have a word for that, like they have a word for the feeling of ennui that rain hitting leaves can provoke. The Germans probably also have a word for it, but whereas the Japanese word would sound somewhat poetic - maybe "Asigosho..." (making this up), the German word would be 26 syllables long and would literally spell out "Feelings-of-embarrassing-exposure-after-thinking-you-were-in-private" by conjoining those words into one. Like picking your nose in your car at a traffic light, and then realizing there's a school bus stopped next to you. 

[BabyJilly_S]

1 hour ago, Little Sherri said:

First, I was brushing my teeth, and I felt what can only be described as liquid dropping from higher up to a lower point in the "system". I did not lose control, but I suddenly had a very strong urge to urinate, and a feeling that it was going to happen momentarily, regardless of if I did or did not want it to occur. I let it happen, or rather, I didn't stand in its way, but it was a bit disconcerting. There was a great rush, and then it petered out very quickly, but dribbled on for a while and stopped of its own accord. 

Is it a kind of weird seemingly generalised fleeting sensation from down there? I get what seems like a 30second to 1 min warning of this then I usually end up going. Its not the "bladder full need to go to the loo" feeling that I remember from when I wasn't diapered but some odd pre-curser feeling. 

Its difficult to describe. I don't necessarily have a huge flood after, but it's saying something is definitely on the way.....

 

[oznl]

9 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

Well, going to bed wet definitely puts one's diaper on one's mind as one slips under the waters of unconsciousness.

Later in the dream, one of them said that the diaper was probably too big to fit pants over, anyway, but that maybe I could have put on a skirt, and I said "Well I'm Scottish, I guess I could wear a kilt..." and that's as far as my memory of it goes. But, while I was lining up a shot at the pool table, I recalled feeling a rush of pee that petered out. In general, in the dream, it felt great to just be in diapers and not be ashamed of it. 

When I woke up this morning, my diaper was pretty wet. I can't say for sure if it was wetter than it was when I went to bed, but... maybe.

 

This is how it started for me.  Going to bed wet, diaper dreams, waking up wetter than I could explain in the "Did I or didn't I?" zone.

I think you're back on course to bed wetting.  Up to you to decide if that's where you want to sail to.

ps:  I'm absolutely up for a game of pool with some good craft beer in nappies.

[Little Sherri]

On 9/10/2021 at 8:32 PM, oznl said:

ps:  I'm absolutely up for a game of pool with some good craft beer in nappies.

Someday, @oznl! I've never been to Australia, but I have a good friend who lived there for a year and she loved it. I hope to make it out there one day. Or, if you ever decide that you want to experience frostbite, stop by. 

Actually, it's been a pretty nice summer, but it's amazing how a switch more or less gets thrown during the first week of September. We went from 30 degree (C) weekends to 10 degree evening lows within one week. And it only goes downhill from here.

This weekend, I had what one might call a transcendent experience. I had some friends over for beers and their kids swam in the pool, but everyone had something to do the next day (Sunday), so, the whole thing wrapped up at around 11:00. Everyone had a few beers over the course of several hours, with food, but we kept it on the light side - mostly 5% beers. Except for me - I didn't have to drive anywhere, so toward the end of the evening, I had a couple of lovely double IPA's and was feeling pretty good when everyone departed. My kids went to bed as well, leaving me to enjoy the slight chill of a near-fall evening. I had started a fire so that the kids had somewhere to keep warm when they came out of the heated pool, and the fire was winding down but still had a good bed of coals. 

My adventure began when I pushed one of the Rearz Active Air cloth-backed diapers past its breaking point - this was a medium, which I bought to test, but when I place an order for a case, it will definitely be in large. It was literally as I waved goodbye to the last vehicle pulling out of my driveway. I felt an emissions request and dropped the gate almost reflexively, without thinking about what I was wearing or how long I had been in it. I felt the diaper sag, but then, curiously, I felt my hip getting wet... and then dripping down the side of my leg. Somehow, the path taken by the flow had defied gravity and run up and past the padded area, into the cloth wing on my left hip, and then, suddenly heeding physics again, started dripping from there. I sighed. Oh well, the guests were gone, everyone in the house was going to bed.. no big deal, just some laundry. I'd have to get changed, too. But I was enjoying the feel of the diaper, the chill of the night air, the flicker of the fire. No point leaving everything lit up like an airport... I went over and threw the switch on the outdoor lighting around the pool, and the light in the pool itself. My wife had turned off the pot lights on the house when she went in, so, suddenly, the whole pool deck went dark - deeply dark. Standing there, I realized, for the first time, that this whole side of the house, with its surrounding trees was, once the lights were off, essentially under a blanket of shadows. To confirm it, I went up onto the deck off the kitchen, and surveyed the area. Other than the coals of the fire, there was nothing visible down on the pool deck - the gazebo was a dark silhouette, you couldn't see the chairs, and could barely make out the pool shed, or the pool itself. 

Maybe it was the alcohol. Probably, it was the alcohol, but, in any case, I had an epiphany... I channeled @diaperedboilerman, and I dropped my wet shorts and slung them over a railing. Wearing just a diaper and a sweatshirt, I walked across the lawn, and went back into the pool area, settling on a chair by the glowing coals of the fire. In the distance, cars went back and forth from time to time, but to them, the area where I was sitting was a sea of blackness. No neighbours had direct sightlines, but even if they did, all they would see was inky darkness. I felt the chill of the evening battle the warmth of the dwindling fire on my bare legs, and the comforting, damp bulk of my diaper, unrestrained. I looked up at the stars in the sky. I took a deep breath. It felt great. At this time of year, there are pretty much no bugs out at night, so I got up and wandered my pool deck and gardens, my eyes becoming adjusted to the gloom, outside in the night air, free, just a man in a diaper on his own property, invisible. I felt amazing. 

As I pushed past spruce trees, I had a sudden, unbidden memory from up at the cottage when I was a kid, of one of the last times I was outside for any length of time, in a diaper, probably over 35 years ago. My parents had had people over, and they were occupying the bedrooms in the cottage, so my brother and I were consigned to a tent on the property, which was fine with us - we enjoyed the adventure of it. My sister kept her bedroom. My parents had located the tent at the back of the cottage, so that after we went to bed, they could sit around the fire and drink and chat and be reasonably assured that they weren't keeping us up. 

It was a hot night, and us kids had been in the water until the sun went down, after which we ran around in our bathing suits until it was time for bed. I had a diaper put on under a longish t-shirt, and I had pulled pajama pants up over it, but my mom asked me if I was going to be too warm sleeping like that, and she suggested that I could sleep in just a diaper, but I remember insisting that I would bring the pants with me, though, just in case. Everyone was sitting at the front of the building when our mom walked us out the back and into our tent, to sleep. Or so she thought. As we had done on several occasions before, my brother and I had a mission planned - we were going to spy on the party around the fire, and, if we could, we were going to snatch a couple of cans of pop from the cooler that was sitting up against the corner of the building. 

I searched my tent for my pajama pants, but I could not for the life of me figure out what I did with them - had I left them in the kitchen? The bathroom? I couldn't find them in the tangle of sleeping bags, and I didn't want to turn the giant flashlight on, for fear that someone would see it and investigate. Eventually, I gave up worrying about it - the night was dark. Slowly, over what felt like half an hour but was probably five minutes, we unzipped the tent door, and crept out. We made our way around the back of the cottage, and slipped along the wall and under the deck, then, cut a path out into the surrounding trees, past the ring of illumination thrown by the fire and the small porch light above the deck. I remember the thrilling feeling I had, and it came from two sources - the fact that we were out of bed, sneaking around, and the fact that I was wearing just a diaper, outside. I think the thrill I felt that night might have lead me to the later couple of instances that I talked about before, where I went out late at night to the park across the street from my house in just a diaper, as a kid. Very ill-advised, that, but at the time, it seemed both risky, but also safe - we lived in a good neighbourhood. Lord knows what would have happened if a cop had driven into the park, and I was cowering in the play structure in just an overstretched Pampers and a shirt. I might have ended up being marched to my front door like that, but luckily, that never happened. Also, nobody ever got up and locked the front door - THAT would also have been a disaster. 

But back to the night at hand - my brother and I crept around and watched the party from the shadows, and, we made it over to where the cooler was, and managed to extract a couple of pops that we weren't overly impressed with - diet store-brand colas, not even Coke. We went back to our tent eventually, zipped ourselves in, and fell asleep. In the morning, I had to send my brother to go tell my mom I needed clothes - otherwise I would have had to emerge from the tent in a diaper, and walk past the guests in the living room, to get to my bedroom. My mom obliged and came out with a pair of shorts - the pajama pants I'd had on the night before were still MIA - and another diaper, which she explained was for later, when we were leaving. I would just stay in the one I had on for the moment... except... I became aware that I was itchy around my lower back, and I either complained, or maybe just started scratching. I can't remember if I opened it myself or if it was my my mom that looked inside, but, we discovered the reason I was itchy - I had pine needles in the back of my diaper, and there were more of them in the sleeping bag, undoubtedly carried in from crawling around in the bush, on our midnight adventure. 

I savored the memory of that distant night at that distant cottage, as I walked around the spruce trees in my dark garden, and after about 45 minutes, I walked into the house and up the stairs to bed. If we have some more nice nights in the coming weeks, I definitely intend to get a fire going, and go sit under the stars in my diaper, even if only for a few minutes. I can't explain why I find doing that so deeply relaxing, but, I do. 

[Little Sherri]

19 hours ago, diaperedboilerman said:

LOL you speak as though you idolize me? ha ha I didn't know I had powers that can even reach across boarders!

Well I admire your ability to just be comfortable in your diaper, come what may. You are really living "a diapered life" - you're not an exhibitionist about it, you don't impose it on other people, but, you also don't treat it like it's a state secret. Which I think is a healthy approach, particularly given your family situation - you are setting an example. When it comes down to it, diapers are just another type of underwear - we burden them with the baggage of shame and/or indignity, but for those of us who need them, they are just a tool that allows us to live our lives. Should someone be ashamed of a knee brace or a prosthetic limb or using a cane? No. Should someone be ashamed that they have to take medication to suppress seizures, or to keep their mood elevated? No. So, why should someone be ashamed to wear absorbent underwear, because they require them to physically and/or psychologically live a better life?

I also have a great deal of admiration for @oznl; his intellectually-rigorous self-analysis, unflinching honesty about his relationship, and the fact that his posts are a treasure trove of practical advice for people trying to navigate an adult world from inside a baby's pants. A lot of what people say about the intersection between their enthusiasm for diapers and their marriages or relationships goes along the lines of "It's wonderful, he/she changes my diapers at will", or, "I wish I had someone who would change my diapers at will...". The reality of it is a lot more complex, and some of you here have delved deeply into that, for which I thank you. My wearing diapers is a daily factor within my relationship, but it's also far from the most important consideration, most of the time. We still have to raise kids, pay the bills, care for parents, and try to have a little fun in the process. 

In the interest of trying to understand my spouse's perspective on my uncommon preferences for underclothes, I have been reading "There's Still a Baby In My Bed", the updated version of "There's a Baby In My Bed", a book written for the partners of people who live on the AB/DL spectrum. I had seen it referenced many times, and decided to see if it has any relevance at all in my world. I've very early into it, but I've already had some insights.

I was particularly intrigued by Rosalie Bent's distinction between "regressive" AB's versus "fetishist" AB/DL's. In her theory, people who developed their fascination with diapers and/or other age-regressive props, prior to puberty, are "regressive", whereas people who stumbled upon or developed their preferences after puberty are "fetishists". I don't think that what she says is necessarily true for everyone - I'm sure that some people who "discovered" this lifestyle only after becoming adults, were late to the party because of the shame and stigma heaped upon "acting like a baby", and that they may nevertheless be using their "fetish" to deal with regressive issues, trauma etc. But, for some people, dressing like a baby is more akin to being into bondage or feet or lederhosen, than it is a balm for a bruised psyche. 

For me, though, this definitely rang true. I know that "this" fascination developed within me very early on - I've delved into this many times before, so I won't belabour it again, but, putting aside my personal bedwetting & diapering experiences, I know that I was also deeply fascinated, very early on, with diapers and people who wore diapers - as early as I am capable of remembering anything at all. According to Bent, that puts me in the "regressive" category, and, interestingly, she claims that people in that category are, by definition, "AB" - that to be a "DL" requires a post-pubescent development of interest in being padded. 

I don't think that these categories matter that much, although some people take them very seriously. But I had somewhat wrestled with where I should put myself on the spectrum, because I mostly just wear diapers, sometimes printed ones, granted, but, I don't own any baby clothes other than some sober onesies that look like t-shirts. My one AB indulgence is sleeping with a pacifier. So, am I an AB, or a DL? Bent suggests that even if all I do is wear diapers, I'm still an AB if my development of this interest was regressive in nature, which for me, it definitely was. The idea is that the purpose of it is regressive - to go back to a lost time, or reclaim lost feelings, or to work through trauma that occurred when one's psyche was developing. 

it was also interesting to read how common a binge/purge cycle is in the ABDL community. I haven't been through that yet - I've been slowly ramping up my stash for years now, from a few hidden pullups and lousy supermarket diapers in a bag in the ceiling, to having two dedicated shelves in the basement, plus a dresser drawer, and a shelf and diaper pail in the closet. Not once have I disposed of anything out of guilt or shame. Maybe it's coming. 

I haven't read very far into the book yet, so I'll let you know if I'm still in accord with her theories after I put a little more of it behind me. Regardless, it's probably a good idea for me to read up on the impact my lifestyle could be having on my partner, because I went a little crazy this week, and placed a fairly substantial diaper order. My wife was just celebrating the fact that I had gone down to requiring space for five cases in the basement, and that five is soon to become eight, possibly a highwater mark. Wish me luck. 

[Little Sherri]

4 hours ago, diaperedboilerman said:

WE are not the same. GRRRRRR that is one of my triggers right now that just pisses me off. LOL 

Case in point, @diaperedboilerman, case in point. Nobody can define who we are without knowing anything about us, and I am not looking to be defined on someone's arbitrary spectrum. That said, it is interesting to me to read someone's attempt at a sort of academic classification of the life forms in this here forest. I always pretty much considered myself a DL more than an AB as well, pacifier use aside - the pacifier, by the way, is actually appreciated by my wife, because otherwise I click my teeth when I sleep and it drives her nuts. She'd welcome my giving up my Pampers, but the pacifier? Nope. 

But do I want to be put into a romper and plopped on the floor in front of Paw Patrol with a sippy cup full of juice? No. I like Scotch. Do I want to have all my decisions made for me? Definitely not, and certainly, not by my wife. Would I entertain being changed and then nursed by a busty temptress? Possibly. But I might agree to that even if I weren't into diapers. Do I want my wife to change my diaper? Not if she doesn't want to. And I'm not sure I'd want to promote her into that role, even temporarily. I'd be afraid of scope creep. 

I could see myself enjoying the play-acting of some aspects of being an AB, with the right partner under the right circumstances. Like if my wife were into it enough to say "I want you in this diaper today" or if, apropos of nothing, she asked me how wet I was or if I needed a change. Or if she took it upon herself to order me a cute diaper (she has bought me diaper cream and baby powder out of the blue, and I was thrilled about that). But I don't know that she has the personality for that type of roleplay. Her "taking charge" might turn into her saying "Also, don't wear a diaper out to dinner with my parents tonight", which would cause an argument. I don't want to give back any of the hard-fought ground I've won. 

I'd be content to spend my days making beer in a diaper and a t-shirt, and to only wear pants when absolutely necessary, and all I ask of her is that she leave room in the basement for the diapers, and room in her heart for me wearing them. 

[Little Sherri]

A long, long time ago, I attained the ability to become somewhat lucid in my dreams, as an antidote to nightmares I was prone to for a while when I was a kid. Whenever something in a dream becomes absurd, at some point, I become aware of the absurdity, and then the dream either dissolves away, or, sometimes, I can enjoy a short period where I'm actually still "in"" the dream landscape, but, I'm semi-conscious and somewhat in control. So, for example, if, say, an unknown monster is stalking me in the woods, I'll experience visceral fear, but then a moment later, I'll have a rescuing epiphany:  "Nope, no way - this is NOT happening." And with that, either I'm awake, or, I can actually walk towards the "monster" in the dream, which invariably causes it to flee from me. It's a useful capability. Although, on a side note, since I started going to bed in diapers, nightmares are very, very rare for me - make of that what you will. So, my lucid dreaming skills haven't been put to much use lately. But they were last night. 

The decadently comfortable and damp embrace of a Megamax precipitated another diaper dream, but this one was accompanied by another "first" for me. The suicide wings I ate earlier undoubtedly contributed as well.

I don't remember the context or the narrative of the dream, only that in it, at some point, I felt pressure down below, and I thought to myself, "But wait - I'm wearing a diaper. This is stupid." And with that, I squeezed. And squeezed. Something about the squeezing began registering as "not right", in the dream - when I pee these days, there is no squeezing, just an opening of the gates, and a rush of flow. So, my implausibility alarm went off; fierce squeezing is almost never required. Ergo, the premise of the dream is flawed. I attained consciousness just as... some of you may have guessed already... I let out a thunderous fart. "All systems halt!" I commanded. There is some crossed circuitry in the #1 vs #2 department that I, like most people, can usually override. It works like this - I can pretty much never endeavor to accomplish #2 without the accompaniment of some #1, however, #1 happens all the time without #2. Although there are times when executing on #1 causes #2 to appear unexpectedly on the radar, but only as an impending priority, nothing involuntary. 

I believed in the moment that I had arrested precisely that process - that I had started squeezing for #1, maybe because of positioning issues that inhibited flow, and then #2 tried to get on the bandwagon. The creamy, soft confines of the Megamax provided no tactile feedback as to if I had wet, or, how much, so I rolled onto my back, felt a bit of a further liquid release commence, then I switched to my stomach, and promptly fell back to sleep.

However, I awakened again sometime later, to an alarming discomfort. I don't know how long after the initial incident it was - minutes? An hour? What I awoke to was a burning sensation... the metaphorical ring of fire. What the hell was going on? Sudden, catastrophic diaper rash? It made no sense. I tried to ignore it for a couple of minutes, but it would not be sidelined. I needed to get up and probably change my diaper, I guess? Maybe apply some lotion? Usually, wearing a diaper to bed more or less ensures that one does NOT have to get up, but, apparently not for me, not tonight. I extricated myself from the covers, doing my best not to awaken my wife or step on the dog, and noted that the time was 4 am. I waddled into the bathroom, lamenting that I'd probably have to jettison a Megamax that still had more than half of its capacity remaining, for reasons unknown. I dropped the diaper and sat down on the throne... and then realized what was going on. Evidently, I had at least "sharted", if not outright pooped, in my diaper during the squeezing dream. And everything was on fire because of the remnants of the suicide sauce on the wings I had eaten earlier. 

I took a shower, put some cream on, then a new diaper (large blue Megamax, still in it), and I crawled back into bed to try and get another couple of hours of sleep. However, I was somewhat disconcerted by the incident.... I have resigned myself to not minding if I end up being a bedwetter again, as a result of wearing diapers to bed. Indeed, given the choice between waking up to pee, and it just happening, my preference is the latter. But I had not envisioned the possibility that I might also become a "bedpooper" on occasion. I'm not sure how that would fly with my wife. Damned suicide wings. 

[Little Sherri]

I have violated my pact with myself to burn through my collection of one-off diapers, it would seem. I had been staying the course, using up the last of several bags and samples I'd accrued, in service to a goal of narrowing my diaper inventory to just what is most useful. I had planned at one point to always have a case of my Prevail "gym diapers", two cases of Lil' Monsters/Splash/Bella's in large, which are my daily go-to's and overnight diapers, and then a case of Megamax's for maximum range in a diaper that can still be worn under daytime clothes. I had almost gotten there - I had but half a case of outliers left - Princess Pink's and Barnyards and Alpaca's, plus an assortment of Bambino models and BetterDry's.

But then InControl released their new cloth-backed Active Air diapers, and I found them to be unexpectedly comfortable and robust, as well as inexpensive - 60 diapers for $140 CAD. Imagining a world where I started occasionally having to wear suits or dress pants again, a discrete, quiet, medium-range diaper with rock solid tabs could be useful. One thing I have not mastered is wearing a big plastic diaper under a suit. I have done it, but light dress pant material doesn't mute crinkling very effectively, and can produce "visible diaper lines" under certain circumstances. I have been getting around this issue by wearing some dark-coloured khakis I bought, one size up, that can pass for dress pants and that do a good job of covering up my diaper. But if I go back to a world of boardroom meetings in head offices, rather than Teams meetings in living rooms, I will sometimes have to dress the part. 

And then Rearz re-released the dual-tab Inspire Selects, damn them. I know I've tried these before, but it's been a long time, certainly before I went 24/7, so I really wanted to reacquaint myself with them, because I have a real soft spot for plastic, two-tab diapers, as that's what I grew up in. Having been in one now since about 10 PM yesterday, I can once again confirm that, for the adult body, as much as a dual-tab (one per side) diaper might be the nostalgia Holy Grail,  they're not as practical as a four-tab diapers that allow you to control the snugness of both the leg gathers, and the waist, separately. I once had some ABU Super Dry Kids, and those had a similar feel to them, although they have a printed landing strip, whereas these Selects are all white. I think the Selects have a bit more capacity, based, as they are, on the Inspire, which is a long-range diaper. But capacity is not everything, when it comes to a diaper's trustworthiness. 

While the stuffing might be robust, the absence of an ability to fine-tune the snugness of the legs leaves me with doubts about how protected I am. I did wear this diaper, which I hadn't really wet much overnight, over to the community mailboxes while out with the dog, running into a couple of neighbours on the way, but, if I got a leg leak on that errand, I was only minutes from home. I will have to field test these on safe ground for a while before I venture much further than that. 

But, Lord, do they fit like the diapers of my youth - that promise, they deliver on. They rise high up at the front and the back, and have high-cut openings that result in more of a V-profile as viewed from behind, rather than a gym-short like "M" appearance. Because much of my youth was spent in maxed-out white Pampers, where the wings barely met the front of the diaper, having a lot of exposed skin at my hips feels very nostalgic to me, although from a security perspective, this cut is not ideal. They also feel really "plastic" at the top - the waist encircles my form at least a couple of inches above my navel, and maybe 2/5ths of the way up my back, but the stuffing doesn't rise that high - again, just like vintage Pampers. They are fairly crinkly as well. The front also rolls forward over the waist of my shorts if I don't have a shirt tucked in - again, exactly like my diapers used to fit. This diaper would stick up out of any shorts or pants that I own, so a onesie or a LONG shirt would be a must for excursions from the home base. Right now I'm just wearing the diaper and a t-shirt, but I'm home by myself at the moment. This is what passes for "pandemic business casual" around here. I suppose I could throw a sport coat over it. I just have to remember not to stand up while in meetings. 

[Little Sherri]

I'm once again copying and pasting over a post from another thread, in the interest of keeping a running journal in one spot... 

It's funny, but for me so far, the greatest point of resistance from my spouse [with respect to my wearing diapers] has probably been co-opting space in the house. Which is funny because, first of all, she has a LOT of stuff - her business involves staging rooms for photography sometimes, so we have duplicates of a lot of furniture - side tables and lamps and chairs and plastic plants (almost said "plastic pants"...) etc.  And I also have hobbies that involve equipment that takes up space, none of which has ever been an issue. And yet when I add another case of diapers to the basement storage area, she'll comment about my needing yet more space for "my Pampers". She thinks I should have one, maybe two cases going, whereas I feel like I need four, minimum, and, right now I'm up to eight, only because of a restock. She sees them like they're cases of paper towels, whereas I look at them the way she looks at purses or shoes - the right diaper for one activity is not necessarily the right diaper for all activities. I need options, and variety is the spice of life. 

Speaking of variety, and getting back to what made me start this thread, last night, I donned my first Rearz Lil' Bella. I ordered a sample bag of them. The print on them is very cute, but I was more intrigued by the scent they are purported to be impregnated with. I love the smell of Pampers in particular - it takes me back in time in an instant, even though I'm pretty sure the Pampers I wore as a kid weren't scented (it was the 1980's). But the ones that I pined for in the years after I outgrew them were scented, and I loved that baby powder smell. 

The Lil' Bella's don't smell like baby powder - I'm not sure if maybe Pampers has a patent on that. These smell a bit like cotton candy, or like a candy store. It's a pleasant scent, and not overpowering, but scent preferences are very specific, so, these don't tick "that box" for me. Which is fine - I have baby powder-scented diaper cream and actual baby powder.

But, having bought these diapers, now I have to use them. Last night at about 10:30, I stood in our bathroom, contemplating the plain white Prevail that I had come in wearing - a sad, damp, thing, wetness indicator all lit up, that I had put on as a stop-gap while doing some sweaty yard work. I knew I would be showering afterwards, so I didn't want to put on an 8-hour diaper for a 3-hour shift. But there was hardly going to be a bigger contrast available than my walking past my wife in that thing, taking a shower, and then reemerging wearing what was waiting for me on the counter... a big plastic diaper adorned with purple and pink ponies, rainbows, stars, ice cream cones, and multi-coloured butterflies. I was going from a nursing home theme, straight to the nursery. Per the theme of this thread, I'm not sure why these things still get my blood pressure up, but, once I put on my juvenile diaper, I had to take a deep breath before emerging from the bathroom. Crunch-crunch-crunch... I walked out and past my wife. I had laundry piled on my side of the bed, so I couldn't seek immediate refuge under the covers... I had to distribute the items throughout my drawers. There was a stack of my onesies in a pile. My pacifier was sitting on my night table. I felt my cheeks redden. I don't know why, but I felt like I was under a spotlight and that I looked ridiculous. 

However, my wife was oblivious to all this. She started talking to me about appliances she wants to buy, as I walked back and forth in that cutesy diaper, avoiding eye contact, and gradually, I got over myself, eventually clambering onto the bed to look at a brochure of absurdly expensive fridges, and then settling down to read my book. The stress dissipated. The air held a delicate candy floss scent. Eventually, pacifier in place, I fell asleep.

Although it does not escape my notice that she seems to want to talk about buying expensive things, whenever my diaper is particularly childish. I think she knows that my ability to mount cogent, vigorous arguments is heavily suppressed under such circumstances. 

[Little Sherri]

I had another sidebar conversation that I will attempt to transcribe over here. I was asked, was I ever forcibly diapered, as a kid? While the question is fertile ground for the seeding of all sorts of fantastical stories, the gist of which can be found in many forms in the story and art section of the site, for me, it never really happened that way, or at least, not as far as I can ever remember. I suppose that I might have kicked up a fuss here and there as a really young kid, but, all toddlers put up opposition sometimes, be it to putting on shoes, taking shoes off, getting into the car, not throwing cheese at the dog, etc. 

The earliest age from which I have any remotely clear memories is probably 4 or 5, and even those amount to a few minutes out of each year, really. As I got older, I laid down clearer memories, and more of them, but most of that era is still lost to the mists of time. Believe me, I wish I could summon more memories from those days. I have so many questions, but interrogating my mom about exactly how I behaved with respect to wearing diapers would be highlighting a topic that, let's face it, doesn't often come up in general conversation. I've been lucky actually that I have had a few interesting conversations with her on the topic over the years, when we arrived upon it organically, but, I can't just keep bringing the conversation around to that. It would get weird. 

All of which is to say that, so far as I recall, I was never held down and forcibly diapered. That doesn't mean that I never objected to wearing a diaper; I sometimes did, even though, as I've spoken of before, I was wrestling with a terrible secret - the fact that, a lot of the time, I actually didn't mind having a diaper on (I know, I know, you, dear reader, are shocked). But there were times when I definitely DIDN'T want to wear a diaper, usually centered around the presence of other people, who weren't in our family. So, if I had cousins or aunts or uncle staying over, I wanted to delay "getting ready for bed" to as late as possible, which sometimes ran contrary to my parents' plans. Or, if we were going over to someone else's house and either sleeping over, or driving home at a late hour, I would beg for a reprieve from putting a diaper on, swearing on a stack of bibles that I wouldn't fall asleep in the car on the way home, or that I wouldn't wet the couch I was dozing on while the adults had one more cigarette and finished their wine, before a then-socially-acceptable DUI journey home. 

But it never turned into a physical fight, just a debate, one which I pretty much always lost. My parents were firm but kind about it; they were practical people, and their goal was not to humiliate me, but, in their minds, to possibly save me (and themselves) from the humiliation and bother associated with having wet the bed at someone else's house, or, having wet my seat in the car. One thing I noted then, and that I still recall, is this: whomever was talking to me about it often referenced the other parents, as though it wasn't THEIR idea, but had been handed down from some higher court, to which there could be no appeal. 

So, my dad, for example, might call me over and ask if we could chat for a second, and of course the correct answer was yes. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, I might immediately know what the chat was about, but sometimes it would also take me by surprise, because, of course, all sorts of plans were hatched, for which my approval was never sought, so I might not have been aware that we were headed over to beloved aunt so-and-so's house, on a given afternoon. The conversation would go along these lines:

Dad: "Listen, big guy, we're going to be jumping in the car in a little while, to head over to Aunt Jody's, so, your mother thought it might be a good idea if you got ready for bed before we go, so that you don't have to worry about it later." 

Me: "Uh, but, it's only lunchtime? You want me to put pajamas on now?"

Him: "You can wear whatever you want overtop - we'll bring pajamas for all of you for later."

Me: "So why do I have to get ready right now?"

Him: "Well, it's a bit of a drive, and your mom thought you might sleep in the car, and once we're there, you won't have to...." He trailed off, and left the rest to my imagination. Either he'd have a diaper queued up, sitting on a side table or on the stairs already, or, he'd turn and walk toward my room, with the expectation that I would follow. What would happen if I didn't? Who knows. I never tried that experiment. 

Or, it might be my mom, waking me up early on a Saturday morning, for the 4-hour drive to the cottage. "Pssst, honey, wake up - we're going to be hitting the road in a few minutes. We'll stop for breakfast on the way up, so just go brush your teeth and bring your stuff down to the front door. If you're not too wet, just stay in what you're wearing and you can get changed later, when we're there."

"Huh? But mom, can't I get changed before we go?"

"Listen, honey, your father thinks it would be better if you just went in what you have on right now."

"Yeah, but..." And with that, I'd point to my midsection.

"Yes, hon, leave that on. Lots of traffic expected - we might be a few hours. Unless you need a fresh one?" 

That conversation generally ended with her grabbing a stack of diapers out of my closet and putting them into an overnight bag, and laying one out for me on the floor, if the one I was in looked close to its best-before date. Then, she'd say "Blowing the hatch!", like it was the opening of a returned Apollo capsule, and tear one of the tabs open for me, after which I would step out of the diaper like it was a pullup, and go sit on the new one. 

I might try to debate the topic a bit further, but generally that was met with firm, but kind, insistence. 

 

[Little Sherri]

Since I wrote that post yesterday, I did recall one episode of resistance, thus, I am partially recanting my claim that there was never a struggle; there were episodes of what I would characterize as passive resistance. One occurred when we were heading up to the cottage on a Saturday morning, and my sister was bringing a friend with her. The car we had at the time, a big American wagon (Buick Electra),  had a rear-facing jump seat behind the back seats, but the cargo area was going to be mostly full, so my brother and the dog were going to share half of it. I had to sit in the back seat with my sister and her friend. 

Often, the protocol on those drives was for me to wear a diaper, or just stay in the one I wore to bed, because what would have been a 2.5 hour drive on a Monday afternoon became a 4.5 hour crawl on the weekends. We all tended to sleep in the car. I was a legendary bedwetter, so there was some justification for the slightly mortifying requirement. 

Knowing that I would end up wedged in the car next to my sister's friend, after my mom had "the talk" with me ("Your dad thinks maybe it would be a good idea if you..."), I nodded agreement, and then scampered upstairs to get dressed, with no intention of complying. I balled up my diaper and tossed it into the pail, tossed my PJ's, and, somewhat un-strategically, pulled on fancy new athletic shorts I had just received, and wanted to wear. I was not going to sit next to a teenaged girl three years my senior, for four hours, with a toddler's underpants on. 

I went back downstairs and carried on with my business until it was time to get into the car, thinking that I had gotten away with the perfect crime, when, as I was headed to the door, carrying my overnight bag, my mom but the lie to the lifetime of promises she had made me that "nobody could tell" when I was wearing a diaper, because, evidently, she could certainly tell when I was NOT in one. She called me back down the hall using all three of my names, which was a sure sign that some kind of censure was incoming. "What have you got on, young man?" 

I played dumb, but I recall that the pause I took while formulating an answer was pregnant and obvious, even to my then-unrefined social radar. "Uh..... my new shorts....?"

"And under your shorts....?"

"I don't know...."

"Well, we can check if you like."

Whispering urgently... "Okay listen sorry mom but I didn't want to sit next to Jessica and it's not such a long drive we're going to be playing a game I'm not going to fall asleep I think I'm old enough now it's really not fair nobody ever heard of somebody my age and anyway aren't we stopping for breakfast, I'll make sure I go there, there's no real reason, come on, please, oh please...."

"You have thirty seconds to get a diaper. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight...." When a countdown began, there was no further negotiation, and I had to run back to my room, drag one out of the package in my closet, and sprint back. She then pointed me into the powder bathroom and, said "In you get", then, mercifully, she didn't follow. Red-faced, I closed the door, sat on the floor, pulled my shorts down to my ankles, and put the diaper on. I decided to leave my underwear on as well, thinking that they would help mute the diaper and maybe soften the lines, but my natty new summer shorts conspired against me, to my eye, anyway, making everything look bulky. I dropped them and doffed the underwear, hoping that might help. It reduced the bulk a bit, but not enough to mollify my growing dread, and I was out of options - my mom knocked on the door with a knuckle. Reluctantly, I opened it, but I stayed standing in the bathroom. 

"Come on out. Come on."

I walked forward, turned, and made to walk towards my room, rather than the front door. "Wrong direction, mister." I think I either opened my hand, or, I said "My underwear...", something like that, and she said "Laundry room", which was right there, so I didn't get a chance to regroup or get control of my runaway anxiety. I took an extra moment to myself in the laundry room, which caused her to once again summon me back to the hall. I tried to walk past her, but she halted me with a hand on my shoulder, and gave my butt a quick pat... compliance confirmed. Staring at my feet, I trudged morosely to the car, climbed up into the back seat, and consigned myself to my fate. I spent the next four hours intently aware that I had a diaper on, and convinced there was a glowing arrow above me, with a blinking sign that said as much. I dragged my feet in and out of the gas station and the restaurant, making sure I was the last one in the queue, trying to never turn my back on anyone. 

Worse, this was a new diaper I was in, so, when we got to the cottage, there was no reason to take it off, unless I had wet it in the car, which, as far as I recall, I hadn't, and, in any case, I wouldn't have wanted to admit to having done so, even if I did. So, I carried the air of a condemned man for most of the day, until we finally got a chance to go swimming, and I could press the reset button on my wardrobe. 

I don't think I ever faked having a diaper on again, after that. 

[DiaperboyEddie12]

This thread is amazing!  I keep reading it each time I see it popup though this I believe will be my first comment.  

I am not 24/7 as of yet though I still dream of it.

@Little Sherri @diaperedboilerman @oznl @BabyJilly_S

[BabyJilly_S]

I have this and @oznl threads both on notification as they are both great. I wish I were half as handy at writing.  

Presumably I was boringly normal when I was younger as I have no recollection of diapers at all.

There are only two stories I get told by my mum of my very young days. One comes with a photo of me coming around from the side of the house with my face covered in mud. Apparently I had been enjoying making and eating mud pies, I  was around two or three ....

The other is that I refused to give up my dummy (pacifier/soother in American parlance) until I was quite old. Still to young for me to be able to remember it though....

[DiaperboyEddie12]

59 minutes ago, diaperedboilerman said:

Yeah, it is difficult to remember way back. I have like maybe two memories of me around age 3 or 4. It was at the apartment (flat I think you call it in the UK) One of my Dad and I in the back of the building, and one of sleeping in the hall on a hot day because my bedroom was too hot. Then I have only a couple memories of me at age 5 in Kindergarten. I don't know why only maybe two memories from that time stay with me. Everything else before that I can not recall. I have more and more memories of like 2nd grade, and 4th grade, and more as I got older. Then a blank for some of my teenage years, and then from my 20's up I remember quite a lot. I don't know if that is normal or not. But I remember getting my diaper changed, and pooping myself once in that apartment. And I remember being jealous my little sister was still in diapers and mom kept making me wear pants and scolding me for what she thought was accidents. LOL I remember being in diapers in 2nd grade in the hospital and having a mean nurse change me and my room mates a few times a day, and I remember then as a teen back in Pampers that didn't fit but my underwear held them in place. Probably drove my Mom nuts trying to figure out where all the Pampers were going. She would buy a box of like 10? 12? Overnight Pampers. The plastic backed hour glass shaped ones, and about 3 times a week I would take one from the box and wear it and use it. I had lose pants then so I would wear them and Mom never noticed. Probably because they didn't come up my rear end enough to stick out of my pants when I was playing on my knees or sitting etc. The only time I was allowed to wear diapers growing up is on long car trips, or shopping on Saturday mornings. Mom eventually had 7 kids. Bathroom trips were a pain while trying to shop for the week. So we all were allowed diapers then. I remember that well. 

@diaperedboilerman how long you been full time?  Have you lost full control?

[Little Sherri]

Thanks for the kind words, everyone. Sometimes it can feel as though I am writing this just for myself, so it's nice to hear that someone enjoys reading it on occasion!

The going-to-bed-wet experiment continues. I had a bit of an uncomfortable drive this morning because of it. I drove out to visit a client's plant for maybe the 5th or 6th time this year. In a normal year I'd probably be out of the office at least 2-3 days a week. The discomfort was the result of having lightly toasted my undercarriage. Thus, sitting for two hours each way in a slightly damp diaper provoked some irritation that I normally evade. 

I was wearing a Rearz InControl Active Air for a few hours already when a buddy of mine invited me to help him lift something heavy in his garage, after which, we went to a local pump for a pint on the patio. One pint turned into three, and I left there just before closing, made my way home, realized that my Active Air was a fair bit along the way to being done for, but, ethanol being a known solvent for judgement, I decided, screw it, I'm going to bed. 

I have no diaper dreams to report, but I'm pretty sure that something happened overnight, because this morning, that diaper was on the verge of failure. My sheets were unscathed, but out of curiosity, I sat on top of the toilet lid, and I got press-out leaks from both sides. I couldn't swear on a stack of bibles that it wasn't that wet when I went to bed, but I don't think it was. I think the seat in my wife's car would possibly have taken some fire if it were. 

This morning when I woke up, I had a light sunburned feeling down below, the product, no doubt, of 14 hours of exposure to the ambient conditions in there. I lotioned up and took a couple of my gym diapers with me so that I could change mid-day without feeling like I was wasting a good diaper, and now, I don't really feel it anymore. Perhaps victory is mine. If I go to bed wet tonight, it will be recently wet, not wet from a few hours prior. 

I have another sidebar transplant as well - the same person who asked about if I was ever forcibly diapered, also asked if I ever was left in diapers when I wasn't feeling well. The answer is yes. I recounted an episode here at some point in the past when I stayed home from school because of strep throat, which I was prone to as a kid, and I stayed in my PJ's and diaper, and drowsed on the couch. At some point my mom didn't like the trajectory of my fever, so she loaded me into the car to take me to the doctor's office, the implications of which didn't occur to my addled brain until I found myself standing in a waiting room full of kids with a diaper on under thin pajama pants. Plus, I knew there was a good chance my doctor would see it, and indeed he did - he didn't ask me to take the bottoms off, but he pulled my shirt up to listen to my chest front and back, and my diaper was sticking out all over the place. Sigh. 

I also remember another occasion where my mom took me over to visit one of her friends who had a son maybe a year or two younger than me, on a day when I was recovering from an upset stomach. I can't remember, and I'm not sure if anyone really knew what set me off - perhaps it was food poisoning, perhaps an enteric virus. In any case, I had been going to the toilet on an hourly basis for most of the previous evening, and some of the morning as well, and, overnight, I had had to wake up my parents to assist me in dealing with an extremely rare (at that time) occurrence: a somewhat poopy diaper. So, mid-morning, when we were slated to leave, I went to get dressed, and saw a disheartening sight - my jeans, a t-shirt, some socks and a diaper, waiting for me, laid out on my bed. I asked my mom why - it wasn't late at night and they were only a 30 minute drive away - and this time she didn't say it was my dad's idea, instead saying that she just "wanted to be sure that my tummy was okay for today", and that she'd chosen my largest jeans and longest t-shirt, so, Vartan (the kid we were visiting) wouldn't have any idea I was in Pampers. I crinkle-crinkle-crinkled my way to the car, feeling unwell both physically, and spiritually, for a fun-filled afternoon of trying to keep my butt pressed against the floor, the furniture, or the wall, lest any notable bulk give away my infantile underclothes. I did not end up pooping myself, but the situation does beg the question: did my mom bring another diaper in her purse? Or what would she have done if I HAD torched that diaper? 

[Little Sherri]

Another day, another diaper... today I'm in a Rearz Lil' Splash. My in-laws were around this morning, so I had pants on, but now I have the house to myself so I'm in my preferred state of (un)dress - a golf shirt over a diaper. One thing about enjoying the feeling of an uncovered nappy, though... the temperature here is declining ominously. It's 17 out now but it was 10 C this morning. Indulging in dressing like this might push me to kick on the heat a bit earlier than I normally would. Although a return to winter clothing has its advantages as well - you can basically wear any diaper you want. Concerns about bulk are greatly reduced. 

A bit of a grim thought occurred to me this morning, and I thought I would throw it out into the ether... Do I want to be buried in a diaper? Hmmm.

Well, first of all, I'm not sure that burial is in the cards for me - cremation has been the option that most people in my family who have passed away have opted for. There is no deep guiding philosophy behind this - it's just viewed as the least expensive and most practical option. Personally, I'd like to have my carcass fired into space, but I'm not sure that the democratization of space travel will have reached that point by the time I pack it in. I like some of the newer "eco-burial" options that have hit the market - being flash frozen and then powdered by ultrasound, or liquified into fertilizer and distributed onto marshland, or put into a burlap sack and buried under a sapling. 

As far as if I would want to have a diaper on for this, I've always been one who sees funeral rites as a balm for the feelings of the living, not the ego of the decedent, so, if it would distress my wife or my kids for me to go into the great hereafter clad in a gloriously printed plastic diaper, well, I think their feelings take precedence. Although there are practical reasons to diaper the dead, at least during the pomp & circumstance portion of the program. Cloth is often jammed into cavities that have the potential to leak. I'd rather spend eternity in a Megamax than spent eternity with a shop towel balled up inside me. 

But, were it up to me, when I'm laid out, wearing a nice suit, with my friends peering at me before heading to a pub, then yes, if it didn't bother anyone unduly, I would like to have a diaper on under there. It is my hope that between now and then, I will have one on pretty much continually. Which, as an aside, I guess makes the likelihood that I will die in a diaper better than average. I suppose I could slip in the shower or drown in the pool or have my clothes sucked off during a catastrophic depressurization event on an aircraft, hurtling me naked and suffocating across the sky (this has happened...). But, if I have a heart attack or am killed in a car accident, or my clock just runs down 40 years from now and I end up breathing my last while staring at the ceiling of a hospital somewhere, I'd like to think that the odds are that I will be padded in that moment. 

[Little Sherri]

20 hours ago, diaperedboilerman said:

 Ironically your slightly warmer than we are here in Northern Ohio right now. grrrrrr

Yup, the days of running around in just a diaper may be drawing to a close, at least outdoors. Not that I did much running around outdoors in just a diaper. But I do have to venture outdoors to get to my office. It's 10 C right now, but I was just talking to a colleague who live in Alberta, and they've seen temperatures below freezing already. Sigh. 

In contemplating switching gears to my winter wardrobe, a new complication has emerged, with respect to living my life in baby pants... the "Covid 19" is real. IE, the 19 lbs or so that everyone seems to have put on, since the gyms have been closed and the primary sport most people are engaging in is recreational drinking. The one-size-too-big jeans and khakis that I cleverly bought last year, to allow me to wear "real" ABDL diapers all the time, are now exactly the right size. So, they don't provide the camouflaging bagginess that they did when I bought them. I put jeans on yesterday over a Lil' Splash, and... yeah. I could see a bit of a diaper bulge out back. That being said, they also do tend to stretch out and relax a bit with wearing. My shorts of the same size do a fine job draping over my diapers, but I've been wearing them all summer. Maybe the jeans will relax a bit with some use. However, it may be time for me to think about stirring a bit more physical activity into my life. The gyms have reopened now. 

But for the moment I don't have to worry about it. Nobody is home, so, I am once again spending the day in my preferred attire... business up top, baby below. 

 

[Little Sherri]

This has been an interesting weekend so far; I went over and made beer, while drinking beer, with my brother-in-law, at their place. It was interesting hanging out at my sister's place while wearing a diaper - I haven't spent that much time with her since going 24/7, primarily because of the pandemic. I felt a little self-conscious about it, but I shook it off in time. I should say I haven't spent a lot of time diapered around my sister recently. Historically, that's another matter. 

You can always count on your siblings to remember humiliations that you've forgotten, particularly if they are older. Just like I recall my brother pooping his pants and getting spanked and made to wash his underwear out in the toilet, although he has no memory of that. It sticks with me in part because my dad asked him if he wanted to go back in diapers, and he was crying and saying that he did not. Meanwhile, I was, of course, wearing a diaper. It struck me in that moment that they would have considered it a punishment to make him wear one (which, to my recollection, they never did), whereas for me, it wasn't supposed to be a punishment. But hearing it used as a threat kind of made it feel like one. 

But back to the story at hand; the conversation came around to businesses, even in this day and age, not putting changing tables in men's washrooms as often as they do in women's washrooms. One of her friend's had a young grandchild and apparently her husband tried to take the kid to the washroom at a restaurant to change her, and there was no change table. I commented that it was like that when my kids were young, too, and I'm surprised it hasn't changed much. Then my sister said something to the effect of nothing having changed in 30 + years on that front (which I don't entirely agree with - I have seen change tables in more men's washrooms, but I digress). Then, she came out with a doozy - she asked me if I remembered "throwing a fit" at a waterpark because I was being changed in the women's washroom. Her saying that made me remember something, but it was way, way back in the far recesses of my brain, so I asked her to remind me. Of course, she relished the opportunity to tell the tale. 

Apparently we'd gone to a then-new waterpark outside of the city, and the plan was to spend an afternoon there, and then meet my dad at the cottage afterwards. I went in wearing shorts, with my bathing suit on underneath them, so when it came time to get changed to go into the park, I just stripped off and away I went. However, when it was time to leave, in the late afternoon, we had about a 2.5 hour drive to get up to the cottage, and my mom wanted me in a diaper for the trip, in case I fell asleep in the car, and, I assume, to facilitate being ready for bed once we got there.

However, I was around 5 years old, and I could not be counted on to go into the men's changeroom by myself, let along to also take care of putting a diaper on. My mom told me to close my eyes and she lead me into the women's changeroom with my sister, promising that we would go into a stall to actually get me changed. Well, everyone else in the park was headed out at the same time, and the couple of bathroom stalls in the change room were occupied perpetually, so eventually, she told me to turn around and face into the corner, which I did, while her and my sister, and probably 20 other people, got changed. But then, all of a sudden, she tugged my swimsuit down around my ankles, and when I turned to object, she said "DON'T turn around", sharply I guess, and so apparently I started crying. My sister recalled that she said something like "Nobody can see anything but your bum, and we all have bums...", which does sound like something my mom would say. 

But then, after being toweled off, my mom apparently tried to slide a diaper up between my legs from behind, which caused me to scream, allegedly, and turn around again, whereupon my mom smacked my face lightly (I somewhat recall that part), told me to face the corner, end then proceeded to fasten the diaper onto me, then, left me standing there like that, while she dug out my clothes. 

My sister was delighting in recalling how upset I was, as I was lead out of there, eyes closed but running like faucets, apparently, and hyperventilating. 

[oznl]

8 hours ago, Little Sherri said:

But then, after being toweled off, my mom apparently tried to slide a diaper up between my legs from behind, which caused me to scream, allegedly, and turn around again, whereupon my mom smacked my face lightly (I somewhat recall that part), told me to face the corner, end then proceeded to fasten the diaper onto me, then, left me standing there like that, while she dug out my clothes. 

My sister was delighting in recalling how upset I was, as I was lead out of there, eyes closed but running like faucets, apparently, and hyperventilating. 

And THAT, dear reader, is the kind of emotional crucible in which our dysfunctions are forged…

[Little Sherri]

Speaking of dysfunctions... my wife went out to the drug store today to pick up some things, and when she came back, she had a gift for me... a bag of Tena briefs, the cloth-backed ones with tabs. Apparently they were on sale for $14 for a bag with 16 diapers in it, so it looked like good value to her. Also, they're cloth-backed and "breathable", which falls in line with her contention that I should consider wearing quieter diapers on occasion. The fact that she bought them also speaks to her not having noticed the cases of diapers I've bought over the last couple of weeks... I had been up to eight cases in the basement, although I just went back down to seven by consolidating some bags and taking a week's worth of diapers up to my bedroom. 

Her heart was in the right place - well, probably, unless this is part of a campaign to gaslight me into questioning if I should be wearing plastic diapers everywhere I go. But that suspicion aside, it was nice of her to think of me when she passed by a shelf of palliative-care-grade diapers that were 20% off. 

It had been quite a while since I wore anything made by Tena, so I was curious as to if their technology had improved since the last time I was in them. The short answer is, maybe, but not dramatically. They are still pretty much a diaper designed for spending your last moments in. The tabs seem to be a bit better - they don't tear the flock off of the front of the diaper, get clogged up, and refuse to stick, like I remember them doing in the past. The tabs also pretty much stay where you put them now, rather than migrating back to the edges of the diaper, before letting go. However, they still only hold maybe a couple of "events" at most, so the fact that the tabs now outlast the diaper is appreciated, but, doesn't revolutionize the experience. 

I had to finish cutting my lawn before it rains again. This was an ideal assignment for a Tena - my shorts were going into the laundry, and I was planning to taking a shower and change my diaper almost immediately afterwards. If my diaper had leaked on my plastic lawn tractor seat, who cares. It did not leak there, and in fact I am still in it, resplendent in green pixilation with the words "Medium" and "Super" printed on the front of the otherwise-white, saggy diaper. But it did manage to channel wetness off to the sides of the waistband, and dampen my shirt equally on the left and the right. 

The packaging for this medium-sized "brief" suggests that it is capable of fitting people who have up to a size 47 waist, which is presumably why my wife didn't buy me the large ones, but, I would pay money to see someone who requires pants that are 50% wider than they are long, fit in, and use, this diaper. It would be top tabs only, and they'd be clinging to very edges of the top panel. The large, on the other hand, claims to be designed for people size 47 to 57, and on me they are absurdly big, running from well above my navel, to half way up my shoulder blades. Only Northshore has perfected the sizing of "medium" diapers. 

[Dprczyone]

@oznl I believe you nailed it Dr. Freud! Sorry, oznl. That says it all. We all have our triggers.

[Little Sherri]

There is one other aspect of the Tena experience that I forgot about... diaper rash. I don't know for sure that I can blame Tena for this, but I recall experiencing a light diaper rash on more than one occasion while in a Tena, during the dark ages when I only wore diapers I could buy in stores. Maybe it's a coincidence. It could also be related to the fact that I wore that Tena while I cut my lawn, and I made the rookie mistake of climbing onto my tractor without looking at the seat first. It had been raining earlier, so, I sat in a little pond, which immediately soaked my shorts on the outside, and dampened the cloth-esque cover of the diaper. I was planning on taking a shower when I was done, and I half thought the diaper would leak at some point anyway, so I didn't rush off to get changed. After a while, the interior and exterior dampness down there melded into one sensation. After I was done the cutting and the weed-whacking, my shorts felt dry to the touch, and I ended up staying in that Tena for another couple of hours. After the leakage down the side panel early on, it didn't, as far as I could tell, betray me again, although I wasn't drinking a lot and probably didn't ask much of it, either. 

I became aware, just as my wife asked me to drive out and pick up something she needed for the late dinner she was making, that I was... itchy. Just lightly. So, I ran the errand, ate dinner, and then took a shower, and when the hot water hit the area, I realized that, yup, I was in the early stages of a rash. The damp shorts probably hadn't helped. I had a memory of once being told by my dad not to put pajama bottoms on over my diaper, because it was "better for my skin", and not understanding at the time, how the hell my skin would know what I had on over the diaper? But I think what he was getting at was not having anything snug on, that could continually press the diaper up against my skin. 

So, in that line of thinking, and also, as a bit of a passive-aggressive shot across the bow for my wife, I put on a Rearz Select after my shower, and just a t-shirt. That is one giant, loud, white plastic diaper, looking and fitting like a 3 X magnified vintage Pampers, undecorated, but otherwise, the polar opposite of a Tena brief.

On a side note, someone pointed out that my continually referring to my wife as "my wife", seemed strangely possessive, but, for people who don't know who I'm referring to, I can't think of a better way to immediately familiarize them to the context of whatever it is I'm about to say. I've also used "my beloved" , "my betrothed", and "my nuptial nemesis", but, her name is Chris. "Chris", being, by the way, short for Christina, lest someone think I'm married to a guy named Chris. 

This morning, I had to get up early to drive my daughter to school, so I put on the requisite baggy cargo shorts and oversized sweatshirt for that part of the program, but once I got home, I noticed that Chris was in the bathroom, so I took the opportunity to strip down to just a shirt and a diaper, and then go about making breakfast. If she asked about it, I could say that it was for the benefit of my skin. She came down to make a coffee while I was making toast, and she didn't ask any questions, but she walked up behind me and pulled up my t-shirt, which startled me and took me momentarily aback - it almost felt like she was going to perform a diaper check, which is something she has NEVER done. All I could articulate was "Huh....?", to which she replied "Your shirt was tucked into your Pampers."  I had taken my diaper off for a #2 requirement, and then put it back on in my usual standing manner, trapping the back of it against the wall, and then taping it up at the front. I had a shirt on while I did this, and apparently, I'd enveloped the back of my t-shirt. I mumbled "thanks", but my face was red, and I'm not sure why... I'd wanted her to notice my diaper, and she had, but perhaps more than I'd intended.