Diapers and Me: A love story

“Okay Aisling, it’s your turn. Tell us a little bit about yourself.”

“Ahem” I cleared my throat to buy a little time, I wasn’t expecting to have to talk so soon into the meeting. Well…Geronimo!

“Hi! My name is Aisling, my friends call me Ais. I am 27 years old. This is my first support group meeting. Like you all I am incontinent, so, also like you all I wear diapers to manage my condition. I am not from around here, if you can’t already tell by my accent. Uhhh…Yeah…I like sappy movies, country music, and whiskey.”

I wrap up my little introductory spiel, and look to the girl sitting next me, she does not speak next. I guess she is a veteran. I hear the leader speak, and the rest of the group echo back his words.

“Thank-you for sharing, Aisling.”

The group moves along to the other new members, I pay attention but just as quickly as I hear the names of the people they are gone. Us Irelanders my have the gift of the gab, but this one has an added talent. The gift of the bullshit. I can avoid using someone’s name in any conversation. I will know their face, but their name will escape me. It is a double-edged sword.

Anyhow like you heard: My name is Aisling, I am 27, and I am incontinent. What I didn’t tell the group is that I chose to be this way. I chose to wear and use diapers. Ever since I was little I have been attracted to diapers.

This is my story:

I first really remember wanting to wear diapers again at age 9. I mean let’s face it, who among us really remember their formative years. You might get the occasional glimpse of a memory from your younger years, but for all intents and purposes you are remembering the stories people have told you about you. You don’t really remember your young childhood.

I remember it was rainy, I was watching the T.V. I don’t recall what. What I do recall is that a commercial came on for adult incontinence pants. I was transfixed. They made diapers for grown-ups!? Where, when, how can I get my hands on these. Like I said, I was hooked. It was all I thought about. I mean I was still functioning, I went to school, did my class-work, played with my friends, went to church, etc. ad nauseum. It was always there though, in the back of my mind. I dreamt about it, thought about. I almost asked about it once, but my Mum was busy and I lost my nerve.

Fast forward until I was 12 years old. I have been thinking about diapers more and more often. It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. I had to know. I schemed, and plotted. Eventually I came up with a foolproof plan. I would simply start wetting the bed again, eventually I would get what I wanted. Out of sheer necessity I would get diapers again. So, I began. At first it was really hard. Have you ever tried peeing laying down, it is tough! But I persevered, I would leak a bit into my jammies and then bolt as loudly as I could to the loo. Hopefully waking my Mum in the process. It took two weeks of that until she noticed.

“Ais? Can you come here for a moment, I need to ask you something?” I was watching T.V. this had better be good. I came around the corner and saw her holding a pair of my pyjamas.

THIS WAS IT! The crucial moment, the fulcrum. It all came down to how I handled myself right now. I started walking over to her, she was holding my jammies in front of her.

“Yes Mum?”

“Sweetie-pie, I was just going through your clothes and I noticed that all your pj’s smell like pee. Is there something you want to tell me?”

I started to fidget and I looked at my feet. This was more for me than her, I was nervous as heck.

“Yes” I said this very quietly.

“What is it baby”

“Mummy…” I broke down into tears. And I buried my face into her stomach, and gave her a hug. This had the added effect of buying me time as well as catching her totally off-guard. I am not a huggy person.

“Ohmygoodness, sweetie! What is it?”

“Sniff. I have been having accidents Mum.”

“What do you mean?” There was no scolding in her voice, just concern. She was buying it.

“When I am sleeping. I keep having these weird scary dreams, I wake up and I really, really hafta go to the loo. I don’t always make it though. Sometimes it has already started before I am up.”

“Oh?” She replied. “Anything else?”

“No” Once again I said this really quietly.

“Okay then sugar, if this keeps up though I am going to take you to a doctor, it is not normal for girls your age to start wetting the bed again.”

Not normal? Give me a break, Mum. I just want to wear diapers. If it was not normal, do you think that there would be T.V. commercials for it?

“Okay Mum. Can I go back to the T.V. now?”

“Yes, you CAN go back.”

Opps, it has always been one of her pet-peeves. The difference between “Can I” and “May I”. I rephrase.

“May I go back to the T.V.?”

“Yes you may honey. Thank you for being honest with me, I know that it is hard to talk about things like this. You shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“Okay Mum, thanks!” I went back to the T.V.

I thought to myself, “That did not go as planned, where are my diapers?” I guess that this is going to be the long-con. Time to get to work. I kept up the partial wettings sporadically at night, keeping myself awake and then peeing a little and going back to sleep. And another week passed of me not sleeping all the way though the night.

I heard her voice again. “Ais? Can you come here for a moment?”

Round two, I think to myself.

“Mum I am doing my maths, can it wait until I am done?”

“No, it can’t.”

“Coming then!” I shout back.

I go into the living room where she is once again holding my pj’s

“Ais, these still smell like pee, are you still having accidents?”

“Yes. But if I don’t go to sleep I don’t pee the bed, so it’s okay Mum, we don’t need to see a doctor.”

“You mean to tell me that you have been not sleeping at night so you wouldn’t pee?”

“Yes Mum. Sometimes I make it, but sometimes I don’t then I wake up wet.”

“Honey! That’s not healthy for you! You should have told me you were still having issues.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault baby, stay right there I am going to phone the doctor, we are going to get this sorted out.”

So, I waited, the doctor, bugger. How am I going to fool him? She returned a couple of minutes later, and sat down next to me.

“Okay. I phoned the doctor to make an appointment. The soonest he can see you is in two weeks. In the meantime, so you can get some sleep, he recommended that you wear ‘protection’ to bed. Do you know what he means?”

Of course, I did, I was not an idiot. The commercials on T.V. had said that they ‘protect’ you from any embarrassing leaks. She was talking about DIAPERS! I had to play dumb though. So, I shook my head “No”.

“Well Ais, what he said to me is that it is not uncommon for people your age to wet the bed, so there are special products you can wear that are just like underwear that keep you from wetting the bed. Let’s go to the store okay?”

“Okay Mum, but first can I finish my maths, I am almost done.”

“Sure, thing kiddo.”

I finished my homework, and we were off to the store. We walked down the holy of holies. The diaper aisle. I was in heaven. I always avoided this place when we shopped together, for fear of staring. Now we were here! Mum pushed the trolley and I followed behind her, staring at the shelves.

“Mum?”

“Yes dear?”

“Why are we in the diaper aisle? I am going to be wearing diapers?” I tried the hide the excitement in my voice. By masking it with uncertainty. I think I succeeded.

“No Ais, not diapers. Protection, for big kids. Not diapers.”

She really stressed that they were not diapers, if not diapers what were we getting then?

“Ahhh, here they are. I think you are a size “L”. Lets get one pack and see how it goes okay?”

“Okay Mum.”

We finished the rest of our shopping, and went to the checkout. The clerk who scanned us up gave no sign that the ‘protection’ was anything unusual. Maybe it was common. I would hate to be common! We got home and put away all of the groceries, except for one. My new ‘protection’. I was so excited to try them on, but I couldn’t let on to it. She had to tell me.

The day progressed, we ate dinner, she did the washing-up. I helped. Bath time was next. Bedtime was approaching fast. Finally! The magic hour had arrived.

“Ais, lets get you into this thing and off to bed okay, I bet you are really tired.”

“Yeah, I am Mum.”

“Okay, start by taking off your towel.”

I did that, heart pounding through my chest, in excitement. I saw her open up the bag, and take out a pink object.

“Can you come over to me hon? I need you to step into these for me.”

I walked over to her, and raised my left leg and put it in the hole, then my right. She started pulling them up my legs. These weren’t diapers! They were pull-ups! I felt ridiculously cheated. I could not let my disappointment show. She finished pulling them into place. Satisfied with her work she got my pj bottoms out and had me step into them, covering this thing. This non-diaper imposter around my waist.

“Okay, you are set for bed. Sleep well honey.”

“I will Mum.” Little did she know I would not.

A week went by with me wetting the ‘protection’ nightly. I was getting pretty good at this now. I could pee laying down and without having to concentrate so hard at it. I would also say a mantra in my head before falling asleep: “It’s okay to wet your bed. It’s okay to wet your bed. It’s okay to wet your bed…”. By the middle of the second week I was wetting through the ‘protection’. Mum said they were called Drynites. They were anything but for me. I was wetting through them and once again my pj’s smelled like pee. I told her I was leaking, and getting wet at night. She had no good answer and told me as much.

Finally, the day came to see the Doctor. I loaded up into the car and we were off. We got to the offices and I had a seat in the waiting room, while Mum checked us in. it wasn’t long and we were shown into the exam room. The Doctor appeared, make the introductions, and got down to business.

“So Aisling, what a pretty name, I hear you have been having accidents at night care to tell me about it?”

So I did, I told him the fib I told my Mum. Mum confirmed my story and said although we were following his advice I was leaking through the Drynites and was still waking up in a wet bed. The Doctor looked puzzled, but not worried. He explained that:

“With the onset of puberty some girls can develop ‘nocturnal enuresis’, commonly referred to as bedwetting. Generally, it sorts itself out in due course. I would like to run some tests though to exclude any infections and such, but I am not too concerned at this point. To that end, Aisling, if you would be a dear and urinate into this cup in the bathroom over there.”

I did and when I re-entered the exam room things were just as they were before.

“But” he continued “The fact that she is wetting though the Drynites is cause for concern. Not medical concern, just concern for her general wellbeing. I would suggest a more absorbent product, geared towards heavier wetting episodes.”

My Mum looked worried and confused.

“What do you mean Doctor?”

“Ms. O’Byrne, I am simply referring to a more specialized product, not found in grocery stores, but rather at medical supply stores and the like. I can recommend a good one not too far from here.”

My Mum looked aghast she knew what he meant. And I knew what they were talking about, and I was excited about it. I had to hold it in though. Must not look happy.

“Are you sure Doctor? D-I-A-P-E-R-S? For a girl, her age?”

“Ma’am, it is my considered opinion that your daughter Aisling would benefit from greater protection at night. This is the only way to ensure that that happens.”

He then looked and spoke to me.

“Aisling? Are you sleeping well at night?”

I shook my head “No” That was true. But only because I was staying awake to wet.

“Are you tired at school and at home?”

“Yes.” I said that very quietly. Truth be known I was very tired.

“That settles it then. Your daughter is not getting enough rest at night, this is a solution that will help with that. Kids need sleep. End of story in my books. If you want what is best for her health and wellbeing it should be the end of story in yours too.”

My Mum, still didn’t look happy about it. Diapers for a 12-year-old?

The Doctor sensing my Mums conflict asked me to step outside for a moment so he could have a private chat with her. I don’t know what they said, but when my Mum exited the room she thanked the Doctor and we were on our way.

We got back to the car and headed out. But not home. I suspected where we were going, but I wasn’t sure. We arrived at a non-descript building, with lots of handicapped parking spaces. Mum got out of the car. I followed. We entered the store, and Mum made a bee-line for the service desk. The clerk looked up and asked:

“What can I do for you today Ms.?”

My Mum replied, “I was recommended your store by Dr. Danielson, I am looking for some…” She dug around in her handbag for the note. “Youth incontinence briefs, size small, poly backed.” She read that ad verbatim from the note.

“Okay, that is no problem at all, do you know what brand you would like?”

My Mum looked flabbergasted, there was more than one? I however was in heaven. There was more than one!

“Um…whichever is the most absorbent.”

“Sure thing, that would be these right here, they are a new item from BetterDry. Specially sized and designed for youth. May I presume that the youth in question is you young lady?” She asked while looking at me.

I looked at the floor, continuing the charade. “Yes”

“Well these are going to be perfect for you, now you can go about your day and not have to worry about leaks! May I recommend some PVC overcovers for added security? They really help keep in odours so others won’t know what you have done in your diaper. That’s a secret between you, your diaper, and your Mum. Aren’t you lucky to be getting these?” He finished that little speech of his with an exaggerated wink.

I felt I had to play the part here.

Therefore, I shouted: “They are ONLY for nighttime! I am fine during the day!”

The clerk looked abashed. “Sorry there little miss. I just made an assumption.”

My Mum was shocked. She paid for the diapers and we were off home again. When we got into the car, she broke down into a fit of laughter. I looked at her strangely. After she was done, she reached over and gave me a big hug, and said,

“That was the cutest thing I thing I have ever seen! You were so mad! And rightly so. This is a private matter, what we need them for is none of her business. Even so though, so, so cute.”

We drove home, got pizza, and soon enough it was time for bed. Mum approached me, bag in hand.

“Sweetie, it is time to get ready. Can you help me?”

“Sure Mum, what do you need?”

“I need you to get undressed for me and lie down on this towel, okay?”

“Okay, but why do I need to lay down, aren’t these step in and pull up like the other ones?”

“No sweetie, they are a little more complicated than that. If you would like I can explain all the steps while I do them. Would you like that?”

“Yes please.” If only she knew how much.

“Then lay down over here please, and let me get started.”

I did as she asked and lay down. Once again, my heart was pumping through my chest, finally diapers!

“The first thing I am going to do is unfold the brief. Next I need you to raise your bum off the towel.”

I did, and she slipped the first of many diapers under me.

“You can lower again.”

I dropped my bum and felt I the diaper. It felt wonderful, soft and warm. It felt right.

“Next I am going to use this cream to protect your skin against wetness. It is going to feel weird , but I need to get it in the right places.”

She creamed me, it smelled good, and felt good.

“After that I am going to take this powder and sprinkle a little bit all over you. It helps keep wetness away from your skin. Like the cream.”

I felt a cooling sensation, and I smelled a smell I immediately loved. A smell I still love.

“Now it is time for me to do up the brief.”

I felt the front get pulled tightly up against me and rest on my stomach.

“Then the tapes. They have to be tight or else you will leak, and this whole thing will be a waste of effort. Tell me if it feels okay, okay?”

“I will Mum.”

I heard a gentle ripping noise, and felt the bottom left get tighter, then the bottom right. After that I felt the top left get pulled tight. Finally, the top right.

“Everything done. I am surprised how easy that was, I thought I would have lost the knack of it, but it came right back. How does it feel?”

I sat up and examined the white bundle between my legs. I shuffled, and squirmed. As I did the diaper made rather loud crinkling noises. I did not expect that. Nor did I expect the feeling of fullness between my legs. It felt nice. It felt safe. It was right. I told her as much.

“It feels okay Mum. Kinda thick”. I got up and went for a test waddle/walk. “I feel like a duck.” I was not altogether unhappy about that. I loved this.

She smiled at me. “It has to be thick Ais, or else where is all the pee going to go? The Drynites were for small accidents. This is for bigger ones. That is the only difference. Now off to bed with you.”

“Yes Mum.”

I crinkled and waddled my way to my bedroom. I closed the door, and lay down on my bed. I smiled the biggest smile, I think I have ever smiled. Finally! I got diapers. I said my mantra in my head: “It’s okay to wet your bed. It’s okay to wet your bed. It’s okay to wet your bed…”. I drifted off to sleep with those thoughts. I only woke up once briefly, and it was to pee. I did, and I went back to sleep.

I got up in the morning, and a felt a ponderous weight around my waist. Then I remembered, I was wearing a diaper. I looked at it, it was yellowed and discoloured. I looked at my bed. Dry! Now to keep the diapers. I went down the hall into the kitchen, my Mum was already up. She was worshipping her coffee cup. She perked up when she saw me, and asked.

“So, how was the night?”

I felt I really had to sell the diapers at this point. So, I did.

“It. Was. Great! I slept all the way through, no wetness. I think I am dry even!”

I knew I was not, but I couldn’t let her know that.

“Really? You’re dry? Let’s have a look.” She walked over to me and poked at the back of my diaper. “Ais, you are not dry. You are very wet. But the bed is dry?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What do you mean you know?”

So I explained, “When I woke up the diaper felt different, I figured I wet last night. But the bed is dry. And I slept. I love this, I am not tired, I don’t smell. In my books this is okay.”

My Mum looked so sad. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad Ais? If you are this happy to having slept, how long has this been happening. Really?”

I lied. “About three months now.”

She was shocked. “How did you keep this hidden for so long?”

So, I explained. “I would wait until you had wash on, then I would sneak my jammies out of their hiding spot and put them in. You never noticed that you were doing the extra wash. And I made sure to keep switching out jammies so you wouldn’t get suspicious.”

She was still shocked. “You are a very smart little girl. I think you deserve a special breakfast, how about waffles?”

“Yes please!”

While we ate, I wet again, not much, but enough to know that I liked it. The diaper, MY diaper absorbed it all, with Mum being non-the-wiser. I knew what I had to do next.

The week progressed as usual, save for the fact that I was getting diapered nightly. But I suppose that was usual, so nothing exciting happened. The test came back negative for any infections. Which was a relief to Mum, it confirmed in her mind the Doctors hypothesis. This was only temporary.

The weeks turned to months, turned years. I was now 15 years old, the single packages of diapers picked up on the fly became a standing order of cases. I went to school, I did well. I did not go to any sleepovers. I was now wetting the bed in earnest, and I could not have been happier. It was time for phase two.

I opened the door to the house and bolted into the lav. Mum hearing the commotion came running. She knocked.

“You okay in there?”

I replied, in tears. “No”

“Ais. What’s wrong!?”

“Go Away!”

“Ais!?”

“Go Away!”

“Aisling Maeve O’Byrne! If you don’t tell me what’s wrong I am coming in there, and you are going to have some serious explaining to do young lady!”

“I pooed my knickers Mum!” I was hysterical, it was a well practiced cry.

“Come again?”

“I. Pooed. In. My. Knickers!!”

“Oh…well then, how about opening the door and we take a look at the damage? Okay?”

“Sure, just don’t laugh. All the kids on the bus laughed at me.” Actually, that part was true. I had to spread the seed of it. Teenagers love telling others, and teachers listen to those tales, and report them to back to parents.

I opened the door and Mum saw the wetness down my legs and the smell coming off of me, the look of compassion she gave me almost made me want to tell her the truth. But only almost.

“Oh, no. Baby. I am so sorry that you had to go through that. Come here.” She wrapped me up in a tight hug. I am not a huggy person, but even I wanted one after embarrassing myself intentionally to my peers.

“Mum” My voice was muffled by her body. She released her hug, and held me at arms length.

“Yes?”

I looked at the ground. “This isn’t the first time.” That’s all I had to say. I watched her mind drop into high gear. Filling in the rest of the blanks.

“Yeah…I have been wearing my Drynites to school. I started to wet myself a little bit during P.E. Then it got worse sneezing, laughing, coughing all made me leak. Until I couldn’t control it at all. I was wearing the Drynites so you wouldn’t have to worry about me. I have been buying them for a couple of months now”

“Honey. I am your Mum. It is my job to worry about you. How long has this been happening?”

“The leaking has been going on for about a year now. This is not the first time I have pooed either.”

“What!?”

“Yeah. It is just that this is the first time it has happened so badly. Normally it is just a little bit, I just lower the pull-up and grab it with some paper.”

“I am taking you to the Doctor. Right now! No. Not right now. Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

“Can you take my clothes. I need a shower.”

“Sure thing Ais, whatever you need.”

I stripped off my shirt and jeans. To reveal the very well used Drynite beneath. I blushed. It was an unconscious, if useful reaction. I handed Mum my clothes, and she handed me a bin bag. I figured it was for the soiled Drynite. I closed the door to the loo. I looked at myself in the mirror, and I asked myself.

“Self, is this worth it?”

I answered “Yes”.

I pulled off the soiled pull-up and placed in the bin bag, and left that by the door. I hopped in the shower and proceeded to clean myself. Paying particular attention to the area I would forevermore refer to as my diaper area. Getting out of the shower I toweled myself dry. I grabbed the bin bag as I left the loo. I placed the bag on the floor by the door and headed upstairs to get dressed. Mum met me on my way up the stairs.

“Feeling better then?”

“Yes. Much. I am just on my way to get dressed and we can go. Does that sound good to you?”

“Sounds fine pumpkin. One thing, seeing as you have been leaking during the day too. Don’t you think it wise that you took the precaution and wore one of your night diapers to the doctor. As a just in case measure?”

My heart did a flip, and stopped beating for a moment. When it started again I answered.

“Actually Mum, I was going to suggest the same thing. It will be so nice not having to worry about leaking for a change.” I am rather excited about this prospect. Day diapers!

She looked at me with pity, and said: “I am glad we are on the same page Ais. I would have hated to make the suggestion only for you to fight me on it.”

I smiled at her and thought, “If only you knew.”

I went to my room and got my supplies together. I am still changing on the floor, at least I have a dedicated mat for it. If all things go to plan I will get a proper changing table sooner rather than not. I diapered myself and put on leggings and a skirt. Being in a proper diaper in the daytime. I finally felt whole, I finally felt like me. Normally I don’t really walk around in diapers, it is a quick tape up and into bed. But since I am wearing a diaper out I wanted to see how it felt. I waddle/walked in a circle in my room. Just like I thought, crinkling all the way. How lovely.

I went down the stairs and met Mum. We got into the car and went to the Doctor. She explained that although we did not have an appointment, any time the Doctor could spare us was needed. We were told to wait. It was a long wait. I wet myself twice during the time. Nobody save me knew. Finally, we were told that he could see us. We went into the exam room. The Doctor entered.

“So…” He looked at the chart “Aisling, I hear you have been having daytime control issues as well as continued nocturnal issues. Care to elaborate?”

I told him everything I had practiced in my mind. Some were lies, others only half-truths. Regardless he was starting to look concerned. He said as much.

“This is highly unusual. I am going to recommend a battery of tests. Also, I think you should see a Urologist and a Proctologist to rule out any structural abnormities. Furthermore, this is probably not the greatest thing for a teenager to be dealing with, therefore, I am prescribing that you see a Psychiatrist until a conclusion is reached regarding your specific concerns. Sound good?”

He really didn’t give us much choice, I agreed. So, did Mum. He continued.

“Until this is all sorted, what measures have you taken to mitigate the problem?”

I answered: “Well Doc. I have been wearing my old Drynites to school, but they are no longer cutting it. I am barely able to tell when I am going anymore. Also they don’t really contain my messy accidents all that well. Why? Do you have a suggestion?”

Mum’s head snapped in my direction. I didn’t tell her that lie, the lie about how often I was messing. I needed another party present before I could trot that one out.

“As a matter of fact, I do. You wear adult briefs to bed correct?”

“I do”

“Excellent! Then it will be a simple matter to transfer your strictly nocturnal undergarment to fulltime wear.”

I was ecstatic! Here was a doctor telling me to wear diapers during the day. Everything was falling into place. My Mum piped up at this point.

“In fact, Doctor, she is wearing one right now.”

“Is she indeed, do you mind if I take a look?” This question was asked to both me and my Mum.

We both shook our heads: “No, I don’t mind”.

“No time like the present then. May I?”

“Sure thing” I hopped off the exam table, and started to lower my leggings. After that I started to raise my skirt, it was the moment of truth. The doctor saw that I was wet. Mum did too. She asked the question first.

“Ais? Did you know you were wet?” The Doctor nodded confirming the question. His pen poised to take notes.

I answered: “Uhhhh… what are you talking about. I haven’t peed yet.”

They both shot me looks of pity.

“Actually Miss O’Byrne, that brief has indeed been wet. More than once if I am any gauge.”

My Mum nodded her confirmation, I could see her sadness.

All I could say is “Oh.” I tentatively touched the front of my diaper, and feeling the squishiness I racked a sob.

My Mum swooped in and gave me another hug, she said.

“Shh…shhh…It’s gong to be okay dear…shhhh.”

I stopped crying, but my eyes were still watering.

The doctor saw all of this and took notes. He started to talk again.

“Welllll… seeing as there is nothing I can do here. I have made my suggestions and recommendations. All I can say is that you act quick, this looks to be rather serious.”

I nodded my ascent. I pulled my leggings up and put my skirt down. Concealing my diaper. We left the office rather quietly, save for my gentle crinkling. What could be said by anybody? On the drive home, I felt the need to pee. So, I peed. It felt good. It felt right. It felt normal.

We got home, and I said to Mum.

“I am going to bed, g’night Mum.”

“Goodnight baby, sleep well.”

I waddled up the stairs to my room. Closing the door, I laid down on the changing mat, and proceeded to ball. Not out of sadness, but out of regret. Regret for having to deceive my Mum. To deceive in order to achieve. After crying myself out, I changed my diaper. Got into bed and fell asleep. Of course, I wet myself. I was after all a bedwetter.

I woke up in the morning to a wet diaper, nothing new there. The only new thing is that instead of knickers I got to put on another diaper. What a great feeling! I re-diapered myself and started to get dressed for the day. My trousers didn’t really fit all that well. It was pretty clear that there was something going on under them, that something being a diaper. I smiled to myself thinking of the shopping that I could do. I settled for a knee length skirt and leggings, again. What can I say? It is an outfit that works. I got into the kitchen and made a bowel of cereal for breakfast. Mum entered shortly after.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Eating Breakfast.”

“Why?”

“Because I have school. Duh. It is a Thrusday.”

“Oh, I was going to call you in sick for the rest of the week. Give it some time to ease off. I know how kids can be.”

“Don’t do that Mum. That just lets the rumour mill run un-checked. If I show up today I can come up with a reason. Like a UTI or something to explain it away.”

“If I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times. You are a very smart little girl. Sorry, young lady.”

“Thanks, Mum!” I give her a kiss on the cheek and I grab two bags from the foot of the stairs. One is my books, the other contains my fresh diapers. I am going to have to get used to carrying a diaper bag I hope. I leave the house and start my waddle/walk to the bus stop.

School as you can imagine, sucked. The kids were merciless. I got called to the heads office as soon as first period had begun. I had to explain the situation, to him. Yes, I am wearing diapers. No, I don’t know if it is going to be permanent (I hope that it is). Yes, I need a place to put my extras. So, I went on a merry excursion to the nurse’s office. I handed her the note that the head had written for me. She read it, and said:

“You can put your things over there in the empty cubby. If you need any help I will be at my desk. Please don’t hesitate to ask if you need it, I am a trained professional.”

I thanked her and I said that I would if I needed. After lunch, I went back to her office. Knocking on the door. I heard:

“Come in.” So, I did. She did not look surprised to see me, actually she looked rather glad. I think she is really bored.

“Need a change?” She asked. I nodded my affirmation.

“Need any help?” I was torn, only my Mum had ever helped me and only at night. I took a leap.

“Please, that would be great.”

“Sure thing, lay down on the table I will take care of everything.”

True to her word, she did. It was the fasted, most professional diaper change ever given. I was un-taped, wiped, creamed, powdered and re-taped before you could say “Boo”. She pulled up my leggings, I put down my skirt. Wow. That was fast.

“Thank-you Ms….?”

“Oh you can call me Abigail, or Gail. It was nice to meet you. Eh-Sling.”

“Actually, it is pronounced: Aeeshling.” I am used to having to correct people regarding my name.

“Sorry, dear. I will try to remember, I am horrid with names.”

“That’s okay. I am too!” We both smile, and exchange knowing looks. The looks that say, I know your name now, but come tomorrow, you will be a familiar blank.

School ends and I get home. I am very wet, having opted out of a change I figured I could wait until I got home. I was right, I didn’t leak. I open the door, head upstairs to take care of pressing business. There is a new item of furniture in my room. I new what it was; from the online searching I had done: It was an adult diaper pail, I played dumb.

“Mum!”

“Yes?”

“What is this?”

“What is what?”

“This can thing in my room!”

“That’s your new diaper pail. If you are going to be wearing diapers for a while, I thought it would be a good idea, cuts down on odour.”

I am so excited! I have an adult diaper pail! Must not sound too pleased.

I answer in a monotone: “Oh, alright then. I guess that makes sense.”

Days turn into weeks. I have just seen the shrink for the first time. Straight off I asked him:

“Is everything I say confidential between you and me? Or do you have to tell my Mum?”

He replies: “Whatever you choose to tell me stays in this room, provided that it is not against the law, nor does harm to yourself or others.”

Having heard that. I spill. I tell him everything. How I have always wanted diapers, how I got my first diapers, how I kept them. How I got them in the daytime. How I am going to keep them in the daytime. Exhausted, I finish my tale.

“That is some story Ais, from what you have just told me it looks to me like your mental wellbeing has been fixated upon diapers for so long they are an emotional need for you. You need diapers. Maybe not physically, but mentally to help you cope. We will keep talking. This has been a very, very informative first session.”

“Thank-you Doctor.”

“If it makes you feel any more comfortable please call me Ben”

“Thank-you Ben.”

“You are welcome Ais.”

I leave his office ten thousand pounds lighter.

As expected the Urologist and Proctologist found no physical reason to explain my developing incontinence. I was therefore referred to a Neurologist, just to rule out anything really nasty, MS for instance. That was a waste of NHS funds, nothing there. My sessions with Ben have been going very well. Also on the plus side I have continued to wear and use diapers for the last several months. I now know that this is the life for me.

Weeks turn into months, and months turn into years. I have been meeting with Ben every week for the past 5 years. Diapered full-time the whole time. My Mum has since adjusted, her daughter needs diapers. I finally have an adult sized change table in my room. This is my last session with Ben, never once has he recriminated me for the diapers. Leaks on his furniture, bad smells in his air. It doesn’t seem to faze him. I love him for that.

After the first several months he made the official recommendation that I remain diapered at all times, it was clear it was what made me happy. My Mum noticed a change in me, my friends at school noticed a change in me. I finally felt like who I was meant to be.

But it was time to move on to greener pastures. I was moving out, moving up. Actually West. A long ways West. Canada West. There was an opining for a nurse in a public (In the colonies they say private) school. Having finished by degrees early, I was now a fully qualified nurse practitioner (not needing a bathroom has some advantages), I accepted the position. My Mum was sad to see me go, ever the traditionalist, she held a living wake for me. It was eerie, all the sadness, and the black. I am a single flight away woman! So, I went. I took the job started to set down roots. And that is where you met me.

“Hi! My name is Aisling, my friends call me Ais. I am 27 years old. This is my first support group meeting. Like you all I am incontinent…”

The meeting ended, and we all broke down our chairs and stacked them up. It was a real treat to see this many adults in one room wearing diapers. The girl who was sitting next to me walks up and says.

“Hi, I am Emily. I just want to say, thanks for being brave enough to come out and meet up. It is not many people our age who are comfortable enough with themselves to sit with a group of strangers and say ‘My name is (blank) and I wear diapers’. Kudos to you for your courage.”

I smile at her, and reply. “Well, it has been an interesting couple of weeks for me let me tell you, new flat, new city, new country, and most important of all new places to source diapers. I have been having a hard time finding a store with any kind of selection. Do you have any tips?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well Tena pads and underwear are fine for some, but I need- how do I put this delicately- more substantial protection.” I give her my best knowing look.

“Oh…Ohhhh…Ohhhhh! I see what you mean. Most of us just have minor leakage issues, but if I am picking up what you are putting down, you have no control at all.”

“That’s it exactly!”

“Well I know of one store that might help you. It is not too far of a drive, only a couple of hundred klicks away, just in Waterloo.”

She said that like it was nothing. A couple of hundred Kms? That was a long way to an Irish Lass. I said as much.

“That is a really long way away!”

“No, that’s nothing. I grew up in British Columbia and I drive back every summer. That is a long way 3000 Kms.”

I looked at her aghast. 3000 Kms? Holy Moley. So, I trotted out an old Irish saying.

“To the Canadians, a hundred years is a long, long time. To the Irish, a hundred kilometres is a long, long way”. I looked at her and smiled sweetly. “See it is all a matter of perspective.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Diapered ass, actually.”

We both laugh at that. I feel myself wet. I am nearing capacity. I must have had a look of distraction on my face because Emily said to me.

“Looking for a place to change?”

I couldn’t lie, I was done with that. “Yes”.

“Come on, my place isn’t far. I take it you have your diaper bag?”

“Yes, always” in this new country it was my only friend. Besides Fetlife, and Facebook.

“Good, my needs aren’t quiet as severe as yours, I make do with pull-ups. I don’t think that they would cut it for you as a loan”

“Really? I couldn’t stand them when I was using those. Always leaking, not substantial enough for my tastes”.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, but I was out of pull-ups at 15 so my views may be a little foggy with time. I am sure they make them better now.”

We walked in as much silence as two diapered women can. Arriving at her flat she let me in. It was immediate, I felt my diaper begin to leak.

“Shit, and Bugger, and DamnitalltoHell!”

“What’s wrong Aisling?”

“I am leaking”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, come on, I’ll show you my sanctum sanctorum.”

I followed her, walking as gingerly as I could. I felt the wetness trickle down my leg. She opened a door, and revealed a loo. Or at least it looked like one. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that it lacked one key feature common to most loos. There was no toilet. I guess this was her bathroom. She motioned to the change table and closed the door behind her.

I undid my now wet trousers and tossed them aside to get stuffed into the wet bag later. My diaper was toast. I mean saturated. Having worn them for so long I hardly notice wettings. I am aware that I am peeing only when I let out an involuntary dribble into a fresh diaper, or when I feel my diaper warm. But I leak constantly, so my diaper is always damp and warm, and therefore I seldom notice. Thanks, be to God I was not messy, I barely notice those either, only when I sit in it or feel it squish do I know for certain. I wear diaper covers to help partially mask the odours associated with that aspect of my incontinence. That overly enthusiastic clerk all those years ago, was right. They helped keep what I did in my diapers a secret between me and them, for the most part. I would have hated to stink up her place on my first time here. I begun wiping up the urine soaked lotion and powder that coated my diaper area. I move next to my bum, making sure it is clean. After being in diapers for the last 12 years I am accustomed to diaper rashes. They come with the territory. But I do everything I can to avoid them.

I finish cleaning myself and begin to prepare my new diaper, still sitting on my old one. I can no longer not be in or at least on a diaper. I have learned from experience to keep tape in my diaper bag to give the tapes an ‘assist” (use a hockey term, why not I am in Canada now, Eh?.). I unfold my fresh diaper and place it under me, only then moving off the used one. I am never not protected. Like I said, I leak constantly. I grab the Vaseline and begin to spread it all over the required areas. I next take the powder and puff it where it needs to go. Taking a wipe, I clean my hands. I tape myself in to my new, clean, dry, private toilet for the next couple of hours. I dig out my spare trousers, pull them up and I am good to go! The crotch bulges a bit. Not too noticeable unless you were staring at it. I don’t really care if my crotch bulges a bit or you do stare. I am wearing a diaper, I need them. What is your hang-up, why you perving out on me?

I leave her bathroom, and I see her relaxing on the couch. I sit down next to her.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. I welcome it”

“Thanks”

“Pleasure”

We sit in silence for some time, not an awkward silence, but the kind where there is nothing that needs to be said. She breaks it.

“So…you said substantial protection, how substantial? I mean, are you aware?”

I am a little taken aback by the directness of her query, but I was warned that people in North American are just that direct. I do her the courtesy of a direct answer.

“Do you want the short or the long answer?”

“Let’s start short, and maybe go long.”

“Short Answer: Very substantial, I am completely unaware or either function.”

To illustrate my point I stand up and un-button my trousers to show her my diaper, it is already a little wet I can see. I pull them back up. She notices the bulge.

“Oh. My. God! You can totally tell, you are wearing a diaper! Aren’t you a little embarrassed that someone will say something?

“Not really, I mean if they do, they are perving out on me by staring at my kitty. It just so happens that it is covered by a diaper. They are gross for doing it, if I notice them staring I will say so.”

“Okay, well you are brave. Most people are embarrassed by their need for diapers, me included, and I only wear pullups during the day! You just changed, right? It looked to me like your diaper was already damp, am I wrong?”

I give it an experimental poke. Affirmative, wet and getting wetter as per the norm. Unconsciously I check the rear for mess. None yet.

“Did you just check yourself for wetness?”

“Yes, and in case you were wondering, no surprise poops either.”

“Wow, you really weren’t kidding about the needing substantial protection.”

“No. No I was not.”

“Let me get you a glass of something. Whiskey, was it? I want to hear the long version now.”

As I sit thinking about how I am going to tell it, she returns with my tumbler. I decide to go for it, tell her the truth.

“Okay, but promise not to judge.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I first really remember wanting to wear diapers again at age 9. I mean let’s face it, who among us really remember their formative years. You might get the occasional glimpse of a memory from your younger years, but for all intents and purposes you are remembering the stories people have told you about you. You don’t really remember your young childhood.

I remember it was rainy, I was watching the T.V. I don’t recall what. What I do recall is that a commercial came on for adult incontinence pants. I was transfixed. They made diapers for grown-ups!? Where, when how can I get my hands on these. Like I said, I was hooked. It was all I thought about. I mean I was still functioning, I went to school, did my class-work, played with my friends, went to church, etc. ad nauseum. It was always there though, in the back of my mind. I dreamt about it, thought about. I almost asked about it once, but my Mum was busy and I lost my nerve….”

We Irish, born storytellers

Part II

“Well…” Emily replied after a time “That is quite the story, a little messed up to be sure. But, who am I to judge? We all need diapers for one reason or another. Your reasoning in the beginning was a little out there, but still a valid one not withstanding. Plus, you are now like totally incontinent, right? So, you do need diapers for real.”

I looked at her shocked, she is the only person I have told my whole unedited story to, save Ben, and he wasn’t allowed to judge. The result? There were no looks of disgust, or revulsion, just an acceptance of me and my story. That was totally unexpected. What could I say to her to let her know that I really appreciated her lack of judgement?

“Thank-you Emily. You don’t know how nice it is to meet a person who is totally accepting of me, warts and all.”

“You are welcome Ais, when you started talking it felt like you were bearing your soul to me, who am I to say ‘that’s fucked!?’ We have all done fucked up things in our lives” She quoted my favourite musical (I think I am in love) “As Abraham said: ‘I am a stranger in a strange land’”.

“Did you just quote ‘Fiddler’? That is my favourite musical!”

“Mine too!” We looked at each other and said together:

“TRADITION!”

I smiled and then she smiled, and we both broke down into a fit of giggles.

“Emily?”

“Thanks for inviting me into your home, it was really nice. You are the first person in this country that I have felt offer me an olive branch of friendship. Please don’t tell me I am wrong.”

“My pleasure Ais. At the meeting, you looked a little lonely, everybody needs friends, especially when you are ‘far from the home you love’.”

We chatted the evening away, fitting Fiddler quotes in when we could, as we finished I looked at the clock. It was getting late and I said I had to get moving. I had my first day of work tomorrow, and I wanted to be fresh and ready for it. We said out farewells and I departed.

I got home, closed the door, and collapsed into my couch. I smiled and thought “I made a friend today”. I showered, changed into my night diaper and went to bed. Happy with the day.

I awoke early the next morning to a site that I have never ever gotten tired of, my well used night diaper. I have wet the bed in some form or another since I was 12 years old. I am a heavy wetter. I sit up and feel a cold mass squish up and around me. I guess I messed in the night. The odour is minimal, but even so I don’t know how long I have been messy, so it is time for a shower and a change stat! Like I said I am accustomed to diaper rash, but that doesn’t mean I like having it.

I got out of bed and laid down on my changing mat, I miss my changing table, but I couldn’t take it with me. It is sitting in storage in Mums house in Belfast. Well best get down to business. I release the snaps on my plastic panty. The smell from my diaper is a little more now that it has been released from its PVC prison. I don’t really mind, I am used to it.

I un-tape myself, and wipe the worst of my mess off me. I re-snap the plastic panties over my now undiapered self for the quick walk to the loo. I gather up the used diaper and take it with me. Placing it in my diaper genie I get into the shower. I remove the soiled panty, and toss it in the hamper. I am totally unprotected, it is a rare occurrence. Showering is the only time I can be totally unprotected; any accidents go down the drain. I turn on the shower and begin to cleanse myself. I use regular soap for most of my body. My diaper area gets a special bar all to itself, also a coarse cloth for scrubbing. I have to keep that skin tough to resist the constant onslaught of chemicals and bacteria that it is exposed to. Finishing up, I towel myself dry. I generally only get one use out of a towel. I have to hold it between my legs for the dangerous walk to the changing mat, like I said, I dribble constantly, and I do not want to ruin my carpet!

I rediaper, get a new pair of panties and snap them over my toilet. I proceed to get dressed in my finest business clothes. First day and all, I need to make a good impression. I pack my diaper bag, grab my purse and I am out the door, ready to make my mark on the world. I arrive later at the front door to what is going to be my new job at St. Kilda’s University Preparatory Academy. I look up at the ivy covered building and steel myself to enter.

I open the door, all is quiet, it is still early, no students have arrived yet. Just the faculty. I wander around looking for the administration office. Eventually finding it. I open the door and step in; as I do a secretary looks up at me and asks.

“Yes? May I help you?”

“Hi! Yes. My name is Aisling O’Byrne. I am the new nurse.”

“Oh yes! I was told to expect you, please follow me and we will go and find Mrs. Larsson.”

“Sure.”

She gets up from her desks and motions for me to follow, I do. We chatter banally as we walk down the office corridors. Like almost everyone in this country she just ‘Loves my accent’. I swear if I hear that any more I am going to start swinging. Yes, I speak differently than you. Do you have to comment on it? We arrive at an intimidating oak and iron bound door. She knocks, and is bade to enter. We do. The butterflies in my belly are going into overdrive. I am sweating. A less severe looking women than expected, working at a computer is the first thing I see. After the intimidating door, I was kind of expecting an iron haired, horn-rim glasses wearing dragon lady. She is surprisingly young for being the headmistress of a prestigious preparatory school. The secretary excuses herself and I am left alone. The headmistress looks at me expectantly, I take the plunge.

“Hello, my name is Aisling O’Byrne, I am the new nurse starting today.”

“Oh. Well it is so good to put a face to a name! I must say you are much younger than I anticipated. How did you manage to accrue so many credentials for one as young as you?”

“Hard work, and dedication Ma’am.” I am gong to be formal, I mean this is the lady that hired me, my boss.

“Please don’t call me Ma’am, my name is Gillian. I am very pleased to meet you Aisling.” She gets up from her desk and offers me her hand, I take it. I am glad she is friendly. “As faculty, we are all on a first name basis. Only the students call us Ma’am, or Sir, or Mrs./Mr. So-and-so. So, before I show you to your office, we have some paper work to do. Medical and financial stuff mostly. Shall we begin?”

“That sounds fine Ma’…I mean Gillian” Wow, that feels weird, calling my boss by her first name, we don’t do that back across the pond.

“Okay: Name, Age, Sex,….” She rattled off the standard boiler plate form questions, I answered them. We then moved on to health related questions she asked me, “Do you have any chronic conditions of which you would like to make us aware, or conditions that require adaption of your work environment?”

“Yes”

“Oh?” She looked up at me “What would those be? Normally I wouldn’t be the one asking these questions, you would be. But, since you can’t ask yourself; I am afraid you do need to tell me for the official record”.

I had no problem with that, my incontinence is by design. If I was going to be shy about it I wouldn’t have done it to myself in the first place.

“I am incontinent, and I wear an absorbent product to manage my condition. I don’t really need any special adaptions made for me. Access to a private lavatory would be nice, not required but it would be nice.”

“I think we can arrange that, nothing else?”

“No that covers it. I have one question for you if I may?”

“Certainly.”

“How does extended medical coverage work? Will your plan provide remuneration for purchases of medically required garments?”

“Yes, yes it will. Furthermore, you can claim purchases of products such as that on your taxes at the end of the year.”

“Excellent, thanks.”

“No problem Aisling. If that is everything I can see you to your office, and let you get familiar with it. If you need any supplies just fill out a request form and bring it to the procurers’ office.” We started walking down the corridor, our steps echoing. I was aware of my crinkle, I am sure she was too. To her credit, she didn’t say anything.

“No students today as it is what we call a ‘professional development day’. Take your time, explore this place, and meet your co-workers. Monday comes quick, and I want you ready for the battle.” We arrived at what was my office, another impressively intimidating oak door. She handed me the key, and bid me good-day.

I unlocked the door, and entered my new fiefdom. It was a little rundown looking if I was going to be honest. Not at all in line with the rest of this prestigious school. It needed a thorough cleaning, in the old way. No Swiffer here, just a mop, rag, broom and bucket. I used the phones directory and paged the custodian’s office. I made my request and I was told,

“You’re on the list, we’ll get there when we get there.” I told him,

“That is completely unacceptable! This is going to be a room where people come to get treated for injuries and ailments, including you if you need. This area needs to be clean, and look professional. I don’t know what kind of slovenly creature inhabited this office before me, but it is not up to my standards. I will clean it myself I just need the tools.” I gave him my list.

It must be my accent, but when I get my dander up in this country people seem to pay attention and do what I say. He replied back to me shortly after my little tirade.

“Okay, I will be up in a minute Ma’am.”

True to his word he brought me all that I needed, and some that I had failed to include. I think he was surprised at my age and size. I bet you he was expecting an old grandmotherly figure from my tone and accent over the phone. Not a 5’10” 27-year-old women. Yeah, I am tall. I thanked him for his speed. He offered to give me a hand, I accepted. I am not above using my looks to my advantage when I can. Green eyes, red hair, clear complexion, and a decent body go a long way. Plus, my diaper really rounds out my bum. We got going, and in a couple of hours I was marginally satisfied. I thanked him for his help, and we shook hands. I am glad he left when he did, I needed a change.

I changed my diaper, and bagged it up. Now to the exploring, finding this private loo I had heard about. I mean I could change in my office, like I just did, I just don’t want to mix my job, with my issue. Having a separate place to tend to my needs is a nice way to separate personal and professional. So, map in hand I went for a walk around the campus. This place was huge! For a school that only catered to students in the final two years of what Canadians call high school this place must have the student population of a small village. No wonder the list was long for the custodians. Mentally I made a not to bring them a basket of cookies for their help. I found the place I was looking for, and retraced my steps back to my office. I unlocked the door, and stepped in. It looked a damn sight better, not great, but it passed muster. The wood needed a polish and the windows needed a clean on the outside, but it was okay for now. I was tired, cleaning and exploring had left me beat. It was barely even noon yet. I sat at my desk and opened the inventory, once again, I found a mess left for me. It was a hodgepodge of tallies, numbers, hand written notes in the margins and whiteout blotches. Seriously? I was going to be here a while.

I phoned Gillian, and told her as much. She hit the roof, not with me, but with my predecessor. Turns out he was “released from service”, after some financial discrepancies came to light. I think she had hoped that his influence had been extinguished, I guess not. I told her I would have to do a complete inventory of my supplies one tongue depressor at a time. I heard her sigh. I was going to be getting overtime on my first day. She agreed, and told me to give her a copy to show to the board of directors at their next meeting.

I got started. Not quarter of an hour into my new task, I heard a knock at the door. It wasn’t locked so I told them to come in. They did. It was a flood of people. I guess they were all other staffers and they wanted to meet me. So, dozens of introductions later I am alone in my office again. Whew! These people were friendly, I told them as nice as I could to go away, I had counting to do. We are all gong out for drinks tonight though, I was not antisocial, just busy. I got back down to it. When I next dared to look at the clock it read 1422. I was about two thirds of the way finished and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I stood up, at that time two things happened. One: I realized I was messy; and two: I heard another knock on the door. I said:

“Come in.” She did, it was Gillian again.

“My, my, you have been busy today Aisling. This place was a mess, I know. I was the last person in here, it was disgraceful. How did you manage to get it so clean so fast?”

“I certainly didn’t do it alone. Tony from the custodial team gave me a had with the heavy cleaning.”

“We don’t have a ‘Tony’ that works here on the custodial staff…was he a big guy, kinda rough looking, wearing coveralls, and a hat?”

“Yeah…” Okay, what the fuck is gong on here?

“Oh. My. God! It is happening again!” she whipped out her cellphone and started babbling into the thing “We have an intruder in the North corridor, I repeat, intruder in the North corridor! The facility is now under lock-down. Authorization code: Golf, India, Lima, Lima, India, Alpha, November, Lima, Alpha, Romeo, Sierra, Sierra, Oscar, November!” It is at this point I am freaking out. What is gong on?!

I turn to face Gillian again, and her face is a mask of terror. Then I feel hands grab at me from behind. I go into combat mode, years of Boxing and Krav Maga training kick in. I throw an elbow, and follow up with a knuckle strike. They connect. I yell “Run Gillian!” I continue to pummel my attacker. She doesn’t move. Instead I hear:

“Jesus! Aisling! Stop! It was a joke! Jesus! Tony? Tony!!? You okay?”

I stop, and I look down, it was Tony from earlier. He was curled up on the floor in pain. Opps, my bad. Well I am embarrassed in front of all my new peers. I guess all the staff I met earlier had come in to watch. I look at Gillian, she looks at me. I feel tears well up in my eye’s. I just break down crying and sobbing:

“I’m sorry Tony! I’m sorry Tony! I’m sorry Tony!”

After about five minutes he and I are starting to regain our composure. Gillian looks at me and speaks.

“That was un-expected. We always test our new hires this way to see how they react in a crisis. We have never had that happen before. Where did that come from? I want you to know that you are not in trouble it was a risk that we didn’t consider. Big Tony getting beaten senseless by a 150lb girl. What a world we live in. We’ll leave you to your business for a while.” They all left.

After that, I got to tend my first patient: Tony! He had a small laceration on his head where he struck it on the table on his way down, other than that a bruised windpipe and a swollen scrotum, the only thing really hurt about him was his pride. He took 3 stiches. No concussion that I could see, even so I called an ambulance to take him for a CT. It wouldn’t be the first time I damaged someone’s brain. After he was carted off, I changed my diaper. It was gross, the mess had smeared all over. I re-diapered myself and tossed the old one out. After that Gillian and the rest of the gang came back in to my office. She spoke first.

“Aisling, where did that come from?” There was an echo of “Yeah’s” and “What the hell was that’s” from the rest of the crowd. So, I attempted to explain myself.

“Ever since I was a little girl I was always interested in martial arts, but none of that flashy kicky stuff that they showed in the movies. I saw a Boxing match when I was young and I was hooked instantly. I started boxing at age 10. By the time, I was 22 my amateur record was 25-2-0. I retired from fighting, but kept training. I read about this Israeli close quarters combat system called Krav Maga, and I figured to give it a go. So…between my Boxing and Krav Maga training I have had to register my body as a weapon with the police in both my native land and my newly adopted one. Didn’t you check that on my application? I wrote that down.” Now it was Gillian’s turn to look abashed.

“Actually, I am not the one who hired you, you were hired by the man you replaced.”

“Oh, well, I guess that explains that then.”

“What it doesn’t explain is why you did so much damage to Tony. Didn’t you recognize him?”

“No, he grabbed me from behind and I struck out wildly. After that I click into combat mode or whatever. I am not looking at him as a person or as man. Just a threat, and threats need to be neutralized. He should consider himself fortunate that you were all around to bring me out of it. If you weren’t he would have been in far worse shape at the end of it all.”

“Yeah, well, now we know. Don’t sneak up on you.” She smiled. That weak attempt at humour was enough to de-fuse the situation. Things began to return to normal.

“So we all still on for drinks? I’ll buy the first round and all of Tony’s.”

Just like that we were all friendly new acquaintances again. My day ended. We went to the bar. I bought us all shots. Tony got there a bit late, all bruised up and limping. He was apparently a regular because everybody was asking him what happened. What could he say? He looked uncomfortable, so I came in to rescue him. I did one of the things I know how to do well, I lied.

“Ohhhhh. He was so brave!” I really laid on the accent for this one “I am new here, and I was supposed to meet a friend. I got lost and I was getting hassled by some street toughs (Over an Armoire). Then he came along, and recued me. I didn’t know that they were going to beat you so badly. Did you at least win Mr.?”

He looked really grateful, and being an Italian he was almost as good as telling a story as me, so I let him take it. “Tony Ma’am, just call me Tony. And yeah Ms. I got them. Those four bastards are not going to be hassling anybody anytime soon, you can take that to the bank.”

“Thank-you so much! My name is Aisling, but you can call me Ais.” I leaned in and gave him a kiss on the lips. The whole bar-stool crowd erupted into laughter and applause. Tony got really red. I walked back to my table, and rejoined the faculty. A couple of minutes later I caught Tony’s eye. I raised my glass to him in a silent salute, he did likewise. I think we were all good on that score.

Part III

We all finished up at the bar and said our farewells. Some of my new co-workers were pissed right up. I mean slurring and stumbling, red faced and laughing. I was not one of those. I am Irish, we can handle our drink. Plus, I know how to drink. Drink smarter not harder. I stick with whiskies and waters. I am glad our night out was ending though. I was in need of a change, as a precaution I had added a doubler into my last diaper. I put it to good use. Tony had stayed up at the bar telling more and more exaggerated versions of the story until he was kindly asked to leave by Al, the bartender.

I saw him across the street as I left the bar. This could go one of two ways. Well for me and him, or not well for him. The decision was his. Tony jogged across the street when he saw me, I turned to face him and bent my knees ever so slightly, just to lower my centre of gravity. Turns out I had nothing to worry about.

“Aisling. Aisling!”

“Hi Tony. How are you feeling?”

“A little banged up for sure, but not as bad I suspect it could have been.”

“Mmmm” I made a non-committal noise, he was right about that. If they hadn’t disturbed my fighting fog, chances are he would be eating his meals through a straw for the rest of his days. I am happy that they did. I like Tony.

“Anyhow, I jus want to say thanks for covering for me back there, you didn’t need to save my ass. But I am glad you did. How ever did you learn to fight like that? I mean I am a bruiser, don’t get me wrong, but you were on the war path.”

“I am trained.” Giving that simple answer generally stirs up more questions, but it is fun.

“Trained how? Like a ninja or something?”

What is with people these days and ninjas? I don’t get it, yeah, they are cool, but still enough already. “Not quite like a ninja, more like a fighter. Before I came to Canada my amateur boxing record was 25-2-0. I also am trained in Krav Maga.”

“Wow, okay. I did a little boxing back when I was a kid, never took to the rules. Kept fighting, just not in the ring. I recently got back into the gym though. My size helped me compensate for my lack of refined technique. Now that I am getting older I need to be smarter about it.”

Yeah. I got that. Tony was massive. People through that word around a lot these days, Tony actually qualified for the moniker. I am tall, and strong for a woman. 5’10” and I can do 20 military pull-ups. Tony, looked fat, was not. I learned that when I was beating him. 6’5” and about 300 lbs. Solid muscle. He was a bear of a man. I would not even guess at his general strength. Somewhere between insane and colossal I would reckon.

“I only ask because I am a member of a great fight gym, and we would love to have a woman on the team, especially one who is not afraid of hitting or getting hit back. If you are interested here is their number.”

I take it from him, I am intrigued. I know that I am out of fight shape, but it would be nice to train again. “Thanks for the number Tony, I’ll give it a think.”

“No problem Aisling. It has been my pleasure. See you on Monday.”

He took off walking down the street. My cab arrived and I got in, eager to get home, get changed, and get to bed. It had been a hard day.

I awoke Saturday morning to something that rarely happens to me. A wet bed. Normally I am protected enough that I can avoid that inconvenience, but not today. Oh well, I needed to wash my sheets anyways. I get up and survey the damage, there is a wet spot about twice the size of a piece of newspaper on the bed. I strip the sheets revealing my ‘insurance’ the vinyl mattress protector that I have. I smile, and give it a stroke. “Old friend” I say “You have saved me again”. I pat it appreciatively. I bundle the sheets by the door and get down to getting out of my night diaper. Having changed I get all my clothes together and head down to the laundry room, crinkling all the way. My ‘lazy Saturday’ clothes do nothing to hide the fact that I am diapered.

I am an early riser, always have been, so all the machines are free. I take full advantage of that. One for my sheets, one for my clothes, and one for my plastic panties. I set them, and head back to my flat. I have only been in this building for a couple of weeks, I am not totally unpacked yet. I make a hard decision to finish that chore before Sunday rolls in. I check the time. 0640. A perfect time to call my Mum. I do. I leave a voice message. We laugh. Half an hour later I hang up the phone, and sigh. I miss my Mum. I go about the other boring tasks of living, I eat breakfast, wash up the dishes, brush my teeth, etc. I look at the clock 0735. Time to switch the loads. I go back down to the laundry room to move things over. I see that there is another denizen of the building in the laundry room. I say hi.

“Hi, I’m Aisling. I just moved in a couple of weeks ago.”

She looks at me up and down, why do I feel like I am being judged. Her eyes linger on my abdomen. I see her smirk, and look up at me.

“Nice diaper.”

I look down at myself, my shirt had ridden up to reveal the waistband of my diaper. I pull my shirt down and look back at her. There is only one way to deal with people like her.

“Thanks.”

That caught her off-guard, bet she was looking for me to blush or get all embarrassed or some shit. Not this chick. This chick don’t play by those rules.

I walk over to my machines and switch the loads. Putting them onto dry. She puts her clothes on to wash and we just stand there in an awkward silence. I walk away, crinkling noisily all the while. I hear her mutter something as I round the bend.

“Freak.”

That stops me cold. That is totally unnecessary, and I am going to tell her that. I march back over to her and ask.

“Care to repeat that little comment?” Oh, this is going to get interesting I am standing up to someone who I think has been a queen-bee her whole life. Let’s see what happens.

“Bitch get outta my face!” I walk closer

“Care to repeat that little comment?” I am keeping my cool, closing the distance between us very slowly. Being menacing doesn’t mean being violent. It just means being cool when they are not. I can see her defences weakening.

“I-I said get out of my face.” I am standing right on top of her. I am much taller than her, yet another advantage.

“Not that one. The one you made before, when I was walking away.”

“I didn’t say anything” her voice is getting quieter.

“Yes, you did, I heard you. You called me something, what was it?”

“I called you a freak.” She is looking at her feet now, she doesn’t even have the balls to look at me directly. Coward.

“Why? Why would you call me that?”

“Because-because you are wearing a diaper.”

“Yes, I am wearing a diaper. Very good. Do you know why I am wearing a diaper?”

“No…no I don’t.”

“I am wearing a diaper because I have a medical condition that requires me to. It is an assistive device. Much like a wheelchair, it lets me live a normal life. You wouldn’t make fun of someone in a wheelchair, would you?”

“No…no I wouldn’t”

“So why would you make fun of me for wearing a diaper?”

“I dunno, because it is weird.”

“That’s not for you to decide. Now I am waiting for an apology.”

“Sorry”

“Pardon me? I didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry for making fun of your diaper.”

“Thank-you. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now fuck off before I beat you into a coma.”

She blanched, and took off for the hills. Maybe it was my height, or my words. But she will think twice about doing that again. That was satisfying. I wouldn’t have really hit her, but the threat of violence is generally a more practical tool than the violence itself.

Eventually my loads are done and I trundle them back up the stairs to my place. I fold them and put them all where they belong. That chore complete I continue to unpack. Sometime later my phone chirps. Emily sent me a text asking if I wanted to go out tonight. I had no immediate plans so I agreed. She was going to introduce me to some of her friends at a local diner. That sounds like a nice time to me. However, that still left me with a good portion of the day kill. What to do?

Remembering my conversation with Tony, I give the gym he recommended a ring. They answer, they are open. I guess I know what I am doing now. I check my diaper, only a little damp. Get dressed, pack my diaper/gym bag, an head out. I arrive at the gym, it looks like a fight gym. Greasy, sweaty, and perfect. I open the door and enter a familiar world. I am about to introduce myself when I see Tony standing ringside.

“Aisling, you came!” He starts limping over to where I am standing. He starts introducing me to all the people ringside. “Guys, this is Aisling. She is the girl I told you about. The one that did all this to me.”

They look at him, then they look at me. Up and down. Like an appraisal. It feels weird.

“Uhhhh…Hi guys. Tony gave me the number for the gym, in case I ever felt like training. I am here, so I guess I do.”

One of them speaks, “You did all that damage to Tony? By yourself? Unprepared?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’m sold, you want to train here you are welcome, anybody who can knock Tony around is welcome here. Consider that your application.”

I smile “Thanks, I didn’t catch your name though.”

“Oh, forgive me. I am Gustavo Ramirez y Soledad Allejandro Juan Garcia IV. Call me Gus. Everyone else does.”

That was a relief, I might be able to remember Gus.

“Is there someplace I can get changed?”

“Yup, locker room is just over there past the mirror.”

“Thanks Gus.”

I head over to the locker room, this is going to be interesting. I get there and enter. It is empty right now. I strip off my street clothes to just my diaper, I give it an experimental prod. Wet. Not concerningly so. I put on my gym gear and head back out. It is pretty clear that I am wearing a diaper. Fighting gym gear is not conducive to hiding tings like that. The guys look at me, look at the exposed waistband of my diaper, and continue talking amongst themselves. For me that makes them good folk. They see the diaper, they don’t care, they are here to train or to be trained. That is all that matters.

I walkover to the weights and start getting my stretch on. Warming up is very important. The science on that score is conflicted, I just like to limber up before I exercise. Stretching complete I start my weight circuit. I am going light, I am rusty and, the last thing I want to do is hurt myself. So, I stick to 20lbs and under. Finishing up some half hour later I feel a gratifying bead of sweat on my forehead. I glove up and take it to the heavy bag. It all comes back to me. The combinations, the steps. Jab. Jab, jab, cross. Jab, cross, jab, uppercut. It fills me completely. The rest of the gym evaporates. It is just me and the bag, we are all that exist in the world.

Finishing up there, I need a breather. I head back to the locker to grab my towel. Also, to check my diaper. I do both. Diaper is okay. Heading back out Tony walks up to me.

“That was some pretty good moves you pulled there. You weren’t kidding you know what you are about.”

“Thanks Tony, it feels really good to get the gloves on and get back into the groove. Truth be known I am in terrible shape. Not too long ago I would have run circles around that bag. Now I am just glad I could jog.”

“If you feel up to it, I could tape up your hands and you could get some proper sparring in. I doubt we have anyone in your weight class handy, but I doubt that that is going to be an issue for you. Am I right?”

“You are. I would love to get taped up. If you are offering to be my corner man I accept.”

“Excellent, I’ll go fetch the tape. You keep warm, don’t need you getting cold on me.”

His transition from fan to coach is flawless. I obey him and start jumping rope. He returns with the tape. I stop jumping. I present my hands to him. For a woman, they are pretty beat up. Full of scars and lumpy knuckles. What can I say? I am a fighter. Boxing is really hard on the hands. He starts taping me up. I start getting mentally geared up. By the time, he is finished getting my gloves on; I am in the mode.

I step into the ring. My opponent does likewise. We touch gloves, I put in my mouth guard. And we are off. He closes in on my very quickly, throwing jabs. Testing me out. I can tell he has me beat on range, he has got long Goddamn arms. I sidestep a jab and let loose a wicked cross to his head. It connects, but not too well. Even-so it gave him a rattle. I follow up with jabs to his body, he is deflecting most of them but some get through. I see him telegraph his next from a mile away, he is going for a haymaker. Why? We are in the first round, the testing stages. Oh well. As he throws the wild power punch, I lean back. As I do so he comes in with a jab. An offbalance jab to be sure, but it catches me in the eye and completely off-guard. I take it like a champ. The bell goes. I go to my corner, to Tony. I sit. Fuck. I am rusty.

“Aisling, you gotta move more, you are not a tree. Use your speed, dance around him. Think of it like a torture of a thousand cuts. Lots, and lots of jabs. It will wear him down.”

Clearly Tony doesn’t know much about my technique. I am an inside fighter, I don’t hop around like a sugar plum fairy in Tchaikovsky, I go in and finish it. He will see. I get a quick mouth rinse and we are off again. Jab. Jab. Jab. Cross, Jab. We are exchanging blows. It is coming back to me now. I know I am the superior fighter. I take a glancing blow on the chin, thankfully my headgear takes most of the juice out of it. Okay, enough fucking around, time to finish this. I close on him. His long fucking monkey arms are no good up close. I start beating his body with short scything jabs and crosses. I feel him try to push me back. I clinch, and pummel his kidney in thanks. He is slowing down. I break off, just as he was getting used to the closeness. I swap my stance, going southpaw for the end. That really throws him. Everybody else at ringside too.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah”

“Flawless!”

He looks confused, I strike. It is a simple, two, one, one, one combination. Two jabs, a cross, a jab, and another cross. What makes it effective, is now I am fighting him like a mirror. For the whole fight, he was fighting me right, now it is opposite. Going left really fucks them up. I let loose the combination. It was perfect. Each shot told. I see him, weaving standing up. His corner man throws in the towel. I win. Simple as that. I return to my corner. I sit on my stool. Tony comes round and starts taking off my gear.

“Well that was impressive, for somebody so rusty, you did pretty good.”

I am winded. “Thanks…Tony… Believe you me… I am much better without the gloves.”

“Oh I believe you. This blackeye and bruised ball sack are all the proof I need.” He smiles at me. I return the favour. I think we just had a moment.

I am de-gloved and I walk back across the ring to my opponent. He is clearly still feeling the effects of my fists. Gus, his corner man looks up at me. There is an appreciation in his eyes. It is gratifying to be appreciated for doing something you love. He is talking to his boy.

“Johnny, come in Johnny.”

Johnny is not saying anything. That is a little concerning. I think I am just going to stand here and see if I am going to be needed in my other capacity. Again.

Gus gets the head gear, and gloves off Johnny. He looks him in the eyes. He doesn’t say a thing. He gets his cell out and starts dialing. As he is talking, I get in to take a look at Johnny. He is breathing rather funny, kinda hitching in his chest. I look in his eyes.

“Gus?”

He looks down at me.

“Do you have a small flashlight handy?”

Turns out he does. I flash into Johnny’s eyes. Pupillary reactions are normal. That is good. Really good. He gets sick onto the canvas. I jump back, Gus not so lucky.

“Fuck!”

There is no blood in the sick. That is another good sign. I think he has a concussion though, maybe some bruised ribs. I tell Gus that. He looks at me with doubt. How could I know that? I go onto explain that I am a nurse practitioner. Almost a doctor, with none of the annoying research involved. Tony pipes up.

“I have seen her diplomas and stuff Gus, enough to fill a wall. You can trust her.”

“Okay then.”

The ambulance arrives, and they cart Tony away. Me trailing the gurney, hastily scribbling notes and shoving them at the Paramedics. After they are gone some semblance of normalcy descends on the gym.

Gus walks over to me and motions for me to follow. I do. We walk to a private office and enter. He sits behind a desk. I also sit.

“So…Aisling, you are one hell of a fighter. Johnny was one of my up-and-comers. He was going to be fighting his first professional match in the next couple of months. If the concussion is severe enough, I will have to pull him. I don’t want any of my boys to end up like Rocky, all slurry and shit. Fighting is life, for a while. Then life is fighting. I want them to be able to continue to fight life. Not have fighting become their life or be the end of life as they know it. This is a rough game, but a game notwithstanding. To that end, I would like to offer you a placement in an amateur bout in the next couple of weeks. Just a three rounder, but enough for you to get comfortable again. What do you say?”

I wanted to say yes, but, I was starting work at a school. Having your nurse come in all battered and bruised was not good. So, I declined the offer. I explained myself and my reasoning. They were acceptable answers to him. I told him I still wanted to train here, just not fight in any bouts. Sparring yes, but no matches. He was agreeable to that. We then got to talking about my technique. I agreed with him that I was rusty. He was still impressed. Back in Belfast at my old gym I had a nickname. It was dadder. It was a hybrid name a mix of diaper and adder. Although we don’t have adders in Ireland it is a fitting comparison to my style. That being said, I didn’t much care for it. But it was a nickname, you don’t get to pick them. He laughed at that and said

“That is the truth. However, if you are going to be sticking around you are going to need a handle. I was thinking something along the lines ‘Peener’. Thoughts?”

“What the heck is a ‘peener’?”

“It is short for ball-peen. It is a type of hammer, used for shaping metal. I think it fits. The peen is the rounded portion of the hammerhead. And you hammered the hell out of Johnny, I think it fits you well.”

“Okay, but how about just ‘peen’?”

“I can live with that Aisling.”

“You’re gonna have to Gus.” I smile at him, and leave his office. I am ready to get changed and hit the road. I get back into the locker room, still empty. My diaper is ready for a change, not that it is soaked. Hard physical activity tends to slow my wetting, but it also increases the breakdown of the diaper itself. Kind of a trade off, wet less, still need to change. I strip off the old diaper and hit the shower. I am stinky, not messy stinky, just stinky. Been a while since I got a good sweat- up going. Feeling clean I return to the bench. Having pre-prepped my new diaper I sit down on it and begin to fasten it around my waist. As I pull the front up Tony walks in.

“Aisling you decent?” He sees me diapering myself. He goes really, really red. “Oh shit! Sorry about that!” He starts backing up, and walks into a bucket, making all sorts of noise he beats a hasty retreat. I am not in the least bit embarrassed about being seen protecting myself. It is a fact of my life that I love. If finish up, dispose of the old diaper. Pull on my trousers, get my bags and leave the locker room. I walk over to Tony. He doesn’t even look me in the eye.

“You wanted something Tony?” I ask him with no recrimination in my voice. What could I say there is only the one locker room, he has every right to be in there as me. Just because I am a woman doesn’t mean that I get all sorts of special treatment. One locker room = a shared space. That is just logical. He is all bashful though. I kinda love old stereotyped hang-ups about modesty and chivalry.

“Uhh…yeah. I was just going to say you did a good job back there, and thanks for coming out today.” He was looking at his feet the whole time, a big, bashful giant. “And sorry for walking in on you there, I hope I didn’t embarrass you or anything.”

“Tony, if I was gong to be embarrassed you would have heard about it. There is only one locker room, you have just as much right to use it as me. It just so happens that I was taking care of a personal matter, and you saw it. No harm, no foul. Okay? Also, please call me Ais. All my friends do, and I would like to consider you one of those.”

“Sure thing Ais, thanks for being so cool about it.”

“No problem Tony, see you Monday.”

I leave the gym, I am going to be sore tomorrow. But right now, I feel great. I go to the store and get what I need grocery and self care wise. Returning home. I get to baking. I did promise myself to make some cookies for the custodians. Getting them in the oven, I go over to my bedroom and survey my diaper supply. Not low, but not high enough to survive a postal strike. Time to place an order. I log onto the computer, and place an order for more boosters, and more diapers. From time to time I like to treat myself, so I order a onesie. By no means am I an AB, but they do have some awfully cute clothing selections, I identify as a DL (obviously). I place my order, and return to the kitchen. My cookies are done. I take them off of the baking sheet and but them on racks to cool. As I am getting the second tray out of the oven, I feel myself mess. It is always an interesting sensation, feeling your body expel solid waste with no conscious decision on your part. The mess encounters my diaper and begins to expand between my cheeks. It was a large one. I finish putting the cookies on the racks and walk over to my changing mat. I don’t want to smear it around if I can avoid it. I ready my new diaper, I place a booster in this one, as I am going out soon I don’t know when I will get the next chance to change. Kneeling down now I pop the tapes off of the soiled one. Grabbing wipes, I start cleaning myself. Front to back. Making sure to get all of the mess off of my skin. Finishing that, I cream-up, powder-up, and seal-up. The whole process takes about 10 minutes.

Time goes by and I am ready to leave to meet Emily and her social circle. I check my make-up, my diaper, and my diaper bag. Everything is spot on. I leave the flat. As I am walking down the hall who do I encounter? Why it is queenie, from this morning. She sees me and makes an about face, walking away from me. I smile. I guess I made an impression on that one. I leave the apartment and begin the walk to the diner. It not short, nor is it over long. It is the perfect length, enough to stretch out my legs, but not enough to make me wish that I had taken the bus. I arrive a little early. Emily is already there in a booth. She waves me over.

“Hey! You made it.”

“Yeah, it is going to be nice to meet some more people. These are you friends from work?”

She stands up and we give each other a little hug. You know that little hug that all girls give each other, more intimate than a handshake, less than a full out wrap-around squeeze. I have since gotten over my hang-up as being not huggy. I don’t particularly enjoy them, but they are expected, so I oblige. We get to talking. The waitress comes by and I order a coffee. One of my many vices, I am a junkie. If I don’t get enough of the black stuff in me, I get really cranky. My life juice arrives, and I take a grateful swallow. Not bad, as far as diner coffee goes. By no means is it some kind of ‘artisanal brew, handcrafted by monks in the jungles of Paraguay’ but it is okay. The rest of her friends arrive and we get to talking. Of course, my accent is a hit. What is it about the Irish accent and Canadians?

The conversation goes back and forth. Emily lets slip that we met at a support group meeting. Her friends look lost. Support group?

“Emily, what support group? Are you in AA or something?”

“No Jen, I am not in AA, I would rather let that one go, if it is alright with you.”

She is embarrassed, I can tell. Her friends though are respectful enough to drop it. We move on to other matters. I have a developing bruise on my cheek, and my knuckles are all cut up from yesterdays encounter with Tony. The one call Jen notices this and asks me.

“Oh, I got into a fight this morning.” That is the truth. I did get into a fight. It is how you frame the truth that sets the stage for a good story. Like I said before: ‘We Irish, born storytellers’.

Emily looks concerned “What do you mean you got into a fight? Are you alright? Did you call the cops?”

“It wasn’t that kind of fight Em. I am not some battered women, I am a fighter. As in I am trained to fight.”

“How so?” Her friends all lean in close to listen.

“I am a boxer. You ever see ‘Million Dollar Baby’?”

A chorus of yes’s makes it way around the table.

“Like that. Back in Belfast I was on the amateur circuit. Before I retired, my record was 25-2-0. I got out of the game to focus on school. Now that I am all learned up I can get back into it a bit.”

“So you fought another women?”

“No, I fought a guy today. The gym where I am signed up doesn’t have another women. So, I fought a guy who was above my weight class today. I won. He is not doing so hot.”

They were on the edges of their seats. Drinking in my words. I continue.

“We fought two rounds, he scored a couple, I scored a couple more. Sent him to hospital with a concussion.”

They all sit back, and look at me different. Especially Emily, she has this look on her face. Mix between admiration and wonderment. Our meals arrive, and we dig in. I plow away at my steak and eggs. I like to eat. I mean keep your hands away from my plate. I might mistake them for sausage links. The meal concludes and her friends depart. I have added a whole roster of new contacts into my phone. It is just Emily and me. I suggested we go for a walk. She agrees and we leave the diner. It was chilly out. Late Winter in Ontario is still cold. Apparently, I missed the real weather, I would have to wait until next year to experience that. We walked along to a park and sat down on a bench. I really wanted a smoke, but I didn’t know how Em would take it. I really cut back but every now and then I just really NEED it you know. So, I say.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Emily looks over at me.

“No go ahead. I was going to ask you the same question. I was just wondering if you were going say something along the lines of ‘Ewww. Are you a smoker? How can you do that to yourself? Don’t you know it is bad for you?’ Or something equally as stupid.”

I let out a laugh at that. “I know, right? Yes, I know smoking is bad for me, yes I am aware of the risks involved. I accept those risks, it is like driving a car. Or crossing the street.”

We both light up, and take gratifyingly long drags. The smoke hangs in the air. It is a perfect moment. My diaper gets warm and swells a bit as I let out a splash and it trickles to the back. I sigh contentedly. Yes, this is perfect. A good feed in me, a new friend near me, and my two old friend around me. I am happy in this moment. We sit in silence for a while, just enjoying the evening. Eventually I speak.

“So Emily,” She looks over at me “anybody special in your life?”

“Not right now, it is hard to find a girl who accepts diapers, I have had a couple of dates in the last month but nothing came of it.”

Did she say girl? Is she gay?!

“Did you say girl Emily?”

Suddenly I feel her stiffen, her voice is a little harder. “Yes, I did, why do you have a problem with that?”

On the contrary. I am really, really happy she said that. She came out to me just like that. It must be nice to grow up in a country so accepting and liberal.

“No, not at all. Actually, I am impressed you came out to me so easily. I am in fact rather taken with you. I just didn’t know if you were, what is the right expression here? ‘Pitching for the same team as me’.” Her body softens again.

“Oh, well. Now that we both are on the same page here. I admit that I am rather attracted to you as well. You are really, really interesting. Plus, I know that my diapers are not gong to be an issue with you, just like yours are not going to be an issue with me.”

I smile at that. “Yes at least we have that in common. More to the point, may I ask you out on a proper dinner date? Seeing as we are mutually drawn to each other and all, I figure that it is worth a shot.”

“That sounds wonderful Ais, when were you thinking?”

“How about Friday night. I know it is a week away but I am starting my job in earnest on Monday and I want to give myself a week to adjust.”

“That sounds great Ais. Honestly, I am kinda surprised that you admitted to yourself that you were attracted to me, and that you asked me out. I had you pegged right, I just figured you were really deep in the closet.”

I look at her and say “Back home in Belfast I had to be. Why do you think I chose to come an entire Ocean away? I needed to be me, and Northern Ireland is not overly accepting of diaper clad Protestant Lesbians. I think my Mum knows about me. But don’t ask, don’t tell. She is quite the traditionalist, and a Gay, diaper wearing daughter might be a bit much for her. Over here I can get comfortable with who I am.”

We hold hands for a moment, and say our goodbyes. I need to get some sleep, Monday is approaching fast.

Part IV

Words to live by ‘Well I woke up Sunday morning, with no way to hold my head, didn’t hurt.’ That was the truth. The singer was talking about a hangover, I didn’t have one of those, mores the pity. I was just sore as Hell from the workout and sparring yesterday. I mean the whole-body sore, everything ached. I lay there just looking at the clock. I got a good sleep-in at least. It is 0745, last time I slept this late I was a teenager. So, I got up. My night diaper hung heavy around my waist. No leaks this morning though. I give it an appreciative pat. Not too wet yet either. I decide to hold off on a change until after coffee and breakfast. Hopefully I can mess this one and not have to worry about it later in the day. Time passes, I go about the boring tasks of life. Well, no mess yet and I am sensing that this diaper is done. I remove the diaper, grab a shower and re-diaper. Ready to start my Sunday. There is one thing I have been putting off since coming to this Canada. The one thing that my Mum (ever the traditionalist) arranged for me to do. She arranged through her magic network of people for me to get a blessing at a church before starting my new job. Now call it what you will: Years of brainwashing, Parental pressure, etc. But it just felt like something I had to do. It wouldn’t feel right for me to start work without doing this.

I phone the number she gave me and I am told that he was expecting me to call. To me that is a little ominous, but whatever, right? He says that he will have time after the Mass, and that I am welcome to attend. I mull it over. I haven’t been in years. But this is Canada, new country, new church, right? Where’s the harm? “Shit” I think to myself “Guess I am off to fucking church”. I kill an hour on the computer, YouTube man, I swear it is the devil. Sucks you in, and can steal your whole day if you let it. Eventually I leave the flat and begin the walk. One thing about this town is, it is at least very walkable. I love walking, good meditation. I keep going. I reach the church, suddenly I am nervous. Why? I am not angel, not by a long shot, but there are plenty out there worse than me. I am a nurse for Gods sake, surely that has to count in my favour, right? I steel myself and I open the door. I am a little early, but the pews are filling up. Taking a seat near the back, everything starts coming back to me. The smell of the incense, the processional, the greeting, everything. I feel a calm enter my heart. Maybe this is what Mum gets out of it, knowing that you are doing everything you can to ensure eternal life. Kind of like a celestial RRSP. I smile at that thought. The Mass begins, everything falls into place, I remember the prayers, and the kneeling. It is a very homey place, far removed from my home. I feel okay about this. I miss my Mum.

Mass concludes and everyone starts to break into their disparate chatting groups on the way to wherever they are going. I approach the Priest, and I introduce myself.

“Good morning Father. My name is Aisling O’Byrne, I phoned earlier.”

“Ahh, yes Ms. O’Byrne. Please walk with me. Let’s have a chat.”

I walk beside him, and we settle down in the rectory. He and I have been chatting about inconsequential matters up until now. He asks about my Mum. I swear is there anybody she doesn’t know? Now he asks the question.

“Do you believe in God Ms. O’Byrne?”

Well that was unexpected. I mean really? Just like that? This guy doesn’t pull his punches.

“I don’t know Father…I mean maybe…If you are asking me do I believe that there is some giant bearded boss in the clouds directly involved in my everyday life? Then no, that is not the God in which I believe.”

“But you do believe?”

“Yes, just I don’t know how to phrase it. I believe in the big bang, and evolution, and cells, and science. I am gay! The God I believe in is okay with all of that. I reconciled my beliefs and myself with faith years ago. The lightning throwing ‘smite ye down sinners’ God is not for me.” Wow, I have never talked to a Priest like that before, it felt really good.

“Well that’s just fine Aisling. We here in the Anglican church of Canada are quite the tolerating crowd. We even have room in our flock for one of the heathen acolytes of Darwin” He smiled at that last comment of his. I like this guy.

“Thank-you Father, but I doubt I will be a regular attendee. It is nice to know that I am welcome here though.”

I receive the blessing, Mum will be pleased. I go on my way. I return to my flat with some light groceries. Putting them away I decide to chill out on the couch and be a vegetable for a while. It has been a busy weekend and I need some me time. I start relaxing. Suddenly I sit-up ramrod straight. I told him I was gay! I came out to a priest! Then it descends on me. He knows my Mum! “I’m so fucked!” I actually say that out loud. I am screwed, if he tells her I am going to have to have a talk with my Mum about something I am not ready to discuss with her yet. Shit! I gotta call him tell him to not tell my Mum! I get my phone and dial. He picks up. Thank-you God.

“Hello?”

“Father Robertson? It’s Aisling O’Byrne here again.”

“Why hello Aisling, I must say I am surprised to hear from you so soon. Decide to take me up on my offer of joining the flock?”

“No such luck Father, I am just calling you to ask that you do something for me.”

“A favour is it? And what can this humble Priest do for you today?”

“Remember earlier today when I told you all about my belief in evolution and whatnot.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I may have let it slip that I am gay.”

“Your point?”

“Don’t tell my Mum, and don’t hold it against me.”

“Why would I hold it against you Aisling? I told you we are a very tolerant crowd.”

He was okay with this? Last I checked even in the Anglican church being openly gay was kind of a big no-no. What have I missed here?

“So, it’s okay that I am gay?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t it be? We are not so blinded that we close our eyes to the outside world. There are gay people of faith. Why deny them?”

“Kevin you home?” I hear another voice in the background. I think I disturbed him at home.

“Sorry for bothering you at home Father, I just can’t let my Mum find out. She would blow a gasket or something.”

“You have my word Aisling, I have to go eat dinner with my husband now. Peace of Christ”

He hangs up the phone. Okay, a Gay bishop. This is a great country!

That was an interesting phone call. I check my diaper, wet. I get up to change. Fastening my dry toilet around my waist I am at a loss for things to do for the rest of the night. I make some terrible instant noodle thing that I bought on a lark. Eat half, sewer the rest, and pop on a film. I can now relax. The film was good, just a standard cop flick. I kill the T.V. and shuffle about my place. I decide that a cup of coffee is in order. I feel the need for my socially acceptable infusion of incredibly addictive neurochemical stimulants suspended in a plant oil based solution of water. When you say it like that it kinda kills the excitement for most, but not me. Making the coffee I open the window and step out onto the fire escape. I am wearing only a robe, thankfully it is shut. I don’t want any peeping toms catching a glimpse of my diaper while I indulge my addictions. Coffee and Nicotine. Normally I don’t mix the two but today is a special day. I have yet to mess and this always seems to help move things along. I chain-smoke 4 cigarettes and drink 3 coffees before I feel it work its magic. I mess my diaper on the fire escape, wearing a bathrobe. I go back into my flat, close the window and sit down. The fact that I am in a dirty diaper doesn’t really bug me. I mean yeah it is gross, but I don’t really care about it. I am dirty at least once a day, if I had a problem with it I don’t think I could have lived the diapered life so long. I hang out reading my book. Eventually I decide to change, it is almost time for bed.

I get my night diaper ready. After finishing that, I lay down. Popping the snaps on my panties. Ripping the tapes on my diaper. I use the front of my diaper to remove any mess that made its way forward. I remove the diaper. I am now laying directly on the panties. I refasten them. I stand up, as I do I feel wetness. I look down and I see a small puddle between my legs. I am lucky I am so well practiced at this. I walk into the loo. I dispose of the soiled diaper, step into the shower and remove the panties. I am naked. Actually, I don’t really feel naked I just feel unprotected. Really, I feel naked when I am just in my diaper. I mean that is as close as I generally get to naked. To me that is my naked. I shower up, shave up, and dry off. Once again holding the towel between my legs as I make my way to my new diaper. I lay down. Cream-up, powder-up and tape-up. Safe again. I get a new set of panties out of the drawer. Yes, I keep my plastic panties in a drawer. Some of my diapers too. I still have an underwear drawer, it is just a little different than the average girls. After that I brush my teeth, and try to sleep. Monday is coming and it is going to be interesting.

Part V

I barely sleep. I am excited, nervous, scared, and exhilarated all rolled into one. I wake up early, as per the usual. Wet, also as per the usual. I sit up and feel a mess squish in my diaper. That is somewhat surprising seeing as I messed just before showering and getting into my night diaper. No matter, it is part of the life. I get up, and go through my morning routine. Plus, another shower. Feeling protected and fresh again, I apply some make-up, a little heavier than usual if I am being honest. I do want to cover that bruise… I pack my diaper bag for the first honest day’s work at St. Kilda’s. I arrive at school, early. As in before classes have begun. I say “Hi” to other staffers and faculty I have already met. The ones I haven’t I introduce myself to. I walk to the administration offices and make small talk with the secretary. Gillian makes an appearance and motions for me to join her in her office. I do.

“I have read your inventory, and the subsequent order forms you filled out. Everything is spot on. I am sure that the procurer will just give you your own purchasing powers if you are gong to be this thorough, in all things.”

“Gillian.” She looks at me “My job is important, the health and well being of both students and staff are my purview. If I am not thorough something could get missed, or medication might expire. If I were to prescribe something like that it would rain holy hellfire down upon both me and this school. I intend to keep this job as long as I can. It is not me being fantastic, it is me doing my best at my job.”

“It is very good of you to say that. If your standard of care is as good as your record keeping I am going to try and keep you as long as I can too”

Well that works to my advantage. She gets up to walk and as she does she says “Shall I walk you to your office?”

“That sounds nice.”

We walk. Once again, the quiet corridors do little to muffle my crinkling. I am not self-conscious about it, but I really don’t need students to know what is going on under my trousers. That opens up a whole can of worms that I don’t need. I make a mental note to wear my onesies from now on. We arrive at my office, bid each other good day and go our separate ways. I open the door and set my bags on my desk. Getting myself organized I take the cookies out of my bag and write a little note to the custodial staff. I stand, and as I do I feel a spreading warmth in my diaper. Paying it no heed I open the door to my office and set out in search of the Custodial office, I have a promise to keep. Finding it open I walk in. Tony is sitting there, booted feet up on desk. A couple of other characters are sprawled around in chairs, taking their ease. I clear my throat.

“Ahem.” Their heads snap in my direction. Tony gets up from his seat.

“Ais, good to see you again so soon. What is that you have there?”

“Cookies. It is a small token of my thanks for all the hard-work you guys did in helping me get my office up to snuff.” I place the tray on the table.

“Oh, where are my manners? I am Aisling O’Byrne, the new nurse. Come see me if you ever need tending to, for injuries and the like.” One of the guys who was sitting in the corner walks over to me.

“Thank-you for the cookies Ms. May I say that you look awfully familiar, weren’t you at Paddies Pub on Friday last? I seem to remember you thanking Tony for helping you out. Now what was that for again…?”

Well the jig is up, Tony and I are like deer in the headlights. I look at him, he looks at me and nods. Time to fess up. So, I do. By the end of the story both of the other custodians are cracked, they are laughing a fit. They promise not to spill the beans. Tony must maintain some shed of dignity amongst his bar buddies. I leave and return to my office. Sometime later, I hear the bell. The battle has begun.

I await my first appointment with a student. I am eager to be of use. It is kind of cool actually barring any actual emergencies students are expected to schedule times with me. It can be during classes, between classes, after classes, during lunch, whatever. By putting the onus onto the students, it helps them develop life planning skills. If they schedule an appointment during a class, they are expected to keep it, regardless of what is being taught at the time. Tests are excluded though. It would be a simple matter to cheat then. My first appointment arrives at the doorway. She enters. She looks nervous. I do my best to make her feel welcome.

“Hello. I am Ms. O’Byrne the new nurse, you much be…” I look at the appointment book “Ms. Lang, correct?”

“That’s right Ma’am.”

“Excellent” I motion her into the private exam room and close the door. “Now what can I do for you today?”

“I need you to help me change out my arm. We are going swimming and this one is not really the water type.”

Well that was unexpected, first appointment of the day, help an amputee change arms. How could I have not seen that when she entered? Well duty calls.

“No problem at all, you have you spare with you I presume?”

“Yes, right here in my clarinet case.” She opens the case, there is no instrument, just an arm. It is a clever way of transporting something that I am sure would cause quite the stir if it was openly flaunted in a high-school. True these kids were the cream of the nation, but even so, it was still a high-school.

I help her switch out arms and she is on her way. Ready to get in the water. Well that was an easy first gig. I sit back down an start making files on all my patients. For my records. I want to be able to cover my ass if something untoward ever does occur. Time passes, kids come and go. Mostly small stuff, a sudden nose bleed here, Feeling ‘sick’ there. Petty stuff, enjoyably petty stuff. I dispense items as needed, and make every student sign a receipt. It might be a little extreme but as my predecessor way dismissed for financial irregularities I want to have everything above board. It is now lunch time, I have no appointments for the next hour, time to take care of business. I alert one of the faculty with first aid that I am taking a lunch, and I am available on my cell if an emergency should arise. I stand, give myself a stealth diaper check by squeezing my thighs together. It is not at accurate as the poke test, but it is more discrete. I am pretty wet, and I now have time to change. I grab my bag and take off for the loo. The corridors are packed with students, no risk of crinkles being heard now. I get to the loo, and open the door. Stepping in I see that there has been a new addition sometime over the weekend. An extra large feminine hygiene disposal bin. Secretly I thank Gillian for being so discrete about what amounts to my personal diaper pail. I flip the knob on the door and get down to business. I unbutton my trousers, and unsnap my panty. And, for the first time in many years take a sit down on a porcelain toilet. It is really cold, hard, and not at all comfortable. I still have my wet diaper on, but seeing as there is no other place to sit or lay, I am forced to make do. I prep my new personal toilet. Having done that I un-tape my old one. I wipe myself clean, and re-apply all the necessary creams and powders. While doing that I hear myself begin to pee, it is a novel experience seeing it go into the water. Finishing up I stand and lean against the wall. I bring the front of my diaper up, pulling it tight I grab the tapes and secure myself safely. Protected once again. I did not leak into the plastic panty so on it goes. I bundle up the used diaper and place it in the bin. Pulling my trouser back up, take a look at myself. My ‘at work professional’ trousers are cut a little larger in the crotch and a little higher in the waist than I would normally wear. Helps to disguise the bulk of my diaper. Like I said can of worms. Don’t need drama. I lower my shirt hiding the portions of my protection that rise above the high cut waist. I flush the toilet, and look at it with disdain. Washing my hands, my business is complete. Time to eat.

I walk into the staff lounge, and get my lunch. Nothing fancy, an apple, a chicken salad sandwich, and water. I try to keep healthy. Plus, since I am (how do I put this) more closely affiliated with my bodily discharge than most other people. I know that you are what you eat, or more accurately you discharge what you put in. Therefore, I keep away from the delicious fried food, and sugary delights so favoured by people. Plain jane food means normal discharge. Upset that balance and I am fucked, I don’t need super smelly messes, they are bad enough as it is. I chat amicably amongst the other staffers. Eating all the while. Finishing up I return to my office to await my first afternoon appointment.

She arrives a little ahead of schedule, but I am not otherwise occupied so I bid her enter. She does.

“What can I do for you today Ms. Wilson?”

She looks nervous, I don’t know why. When my predecessor left, he shredded all the patient files before leaving. One last parting gift from what I assume was a real gem of a human being.

“Uhhh…I am here for your help”

“Yes, I gathered that, you have an appointment. With what may I help you?”

“Ineedyourhelpchangingmydiaper.” She says it all in one jumbled mess. Not to worry I caught what she said. The fact that she held out a fresh diaper helped make the point.

“That is no worry at all, hop up on the table dear.” I make a motion “One question. Is it going to be a big job or a small job?” She looked confused at that, so I clarified. “Wet or Messy?”

“I guess big. I am so sorry. God I’m gross!”

“Not to worry Ms. Wilson, this is what I am here for. Let’s get started. Can you raise your skirt for me?”

She does, and in doing so exposes her rather oversaturated and messy diaper. I glove up and get to work. In no time at all I have her mess all cleaned off and a new diaper on her. It is part of the job, plus I am really good at it.

“You are good to go Ms. Wilson”

“Thank-you very much Ms. O’Byrne, I’m sorry you had to do that.”

She stands up, and lowers her skirt down, concealing what I assume from her earlier reaction to be her own personal shame. Time to go into counseling mode. I am not going to reveal myself, but I am going to tell her some hard facts.

“Ms. Wilson take a seat if you please.” She sits down in front of my desk. I sit down across from her. “Judging by your earlier reaction to needing help I assume that this is a recent occurrence for you?”

“No”

“So you have been wearing diapers for sometime now then I gather?”

“Yes, for the last couple of months.”

“Time for some truth then.” She looks confused, I explain. “Wearing diapers is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But it’s…”

“Let me finish. Wearing diapers is nothing to be ashamed of. For whatever reason, you have to wear diapers to protect your clothing and those around you from your bodily discharge. By wearing diapers, you are taking control over your problem, and managing your disability. Incontinence, is a disability, much like paraplegia or epilepsy. Yes, there is a social stigma associated with diapers. But like with anything used for managing a problem they are an assistive device that allow you to lead a relatively normal life. Without them where would you be? Stuck at home, sitting on the toilet. I am aware that they are noisy, and sometimes unpleasant odours arise, but that is a small price to pay for your personal freedom. Don’t feel bad about yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Diapers are a part of your life right now. Either temporarily or permanently, being ashamed of yourself for dealing with a problem is doing yourself a disservice. You are more than your incontinence. Never forget that” I know I don’t.

Having finished my speech, she looks up at me with gratitude.

“The other guy was not as understanding, he did his job, but he didn’t make me feel better about myself like you just did. Thank-you very much Ms. O’Byrne that was really nice of you.”

“You are welcome Laura, in the confines of this office, let us be on a first name basis okay? My name is Aisling.”

“Okay, thank-you Aisling.”

“Have a good afternoon Laura.”

She leaves my office, and I feel pretty good about myself. The rest of the day goes by uneventfully. Gillian shows back up.

“So? How was it?”

“Pretty good, nothing out of the ordinary, just a nice productive day at being a nurse”

“Well that is good to hear, have a good nigh Ais.”

“You too Gill.”

The day ends, I go home, change, make dinner, chill, shower, put on my night diaper, and go to bed.

The rest of the week progresses without any major issues. I see Laura twice a day now, she looks happier and I think she is learning to live more comfortably with the fact that she needs to wear diapers. I am not a counsellor, but I do have a unique perspective on living in and with diapers. Friday rolls around, and I am getting ready for my date with Emily. I put a booster in my diaper, and seal myself up. I have been very careful about my clothing choices, seeing as how Emily is embarrassed about her need for protection I decide that discretion is the better part of valour in this case and make an outfit choice that disguises my diaper rather well. I go by her building and ring her flat.

“Be right out, I am almost ready!”

“Okay, I’ll be here.”

I wait for about three minuets, then I see her. She is dressed to the nines, I mean everything about her is fantastic looking.

“Wow! You look great!”

“So, do you Ais. I love the pants.”

I look down, could she see my plastic panty? Then I realize she meant my trousers. I am still getting used to that one.

“Thanks”

We walk to the restaurant and get our table. It is a nice place, fancy, but not overly so. Just enough to have a casually formal atmosphere. We place our orders and get to the talking. We know each other a little bit, but not like we are old friends. So, we talk. I learn things about her: She is a financial advisor, loves horses, doesn’t swim, jogs, and is a fan of Steinbeck novels. She learns things about me: I am a nurse, I can’t ride, love to hike, like to cook, I also jog, haven’t ever read a Steinbeck book, and I have the victim of sectarian violence on more than one occasion back in Belfast. She remarked at that statement. Most do. I just asked her to leave it for another time. It is not a first date type of subject. Just as we are paying our bills, I mess. Well that kinda kills the evening for her I think. I don’t act strange about it, I am used to it. We get our coats and leave the restaurant. We walk. After a fashion, she remarks.

“Do you smell something?”

What can I say? No? Of course, I smell something. I am the source of the smell. So I just say.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh. Did you step in something when we walked through the park?”

“No.”

“Then what…oh. Sorry! I did I embarrass you? I didn’t mean to, I just wasn’t thinking.”

I am not embarrassed, shit happens.

“No you didn’t embarrass me, I would like to go change now. How about we head back to my place and I get a chance to freshen up?”

“That sounds like a good idea Ais.”

She holds my hand and we walk back to my flat. Getting into my place, I tell her to look around while I take care of business. She starts looking at some of my knickknacks. I go into my room and prepare myself for what I would say to Laura is a “big job” the long walk home did not help any. It is everywhere. At least my diaper did its duty. It kept everything neatly and tidily contained within my trousers. I clean up, and re-diaper. As I am spraying down my room I hear a knock on the door.

“Hey Ais? You done in there?”

“Yeah Em, I’ll be right out.”

As I open the door I see her red-faced standing there. Odd, but okay.

“Did you need me?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could ask a favour of you?”

“Sure thing Em, what do you need?”

“A change, I leaked a bit.”

“That’s perfectly alright, did you forget your pull-ups? I only have actual diapers handy.”

“I know, I must have left my change sitting on the shelf in the bathroom back at home.”

“Okay well have at it. I don’t have any thin diapers I am afraid, so you may feel a bit self conscious.” As an example, I walk to the dresser and take out one of mine. Showing it to her and giving a little shrug.

“I understand, thanks for this Ais, you are a lifesaver.” She closes the door and I hear rustling. Hmmm… I wonder if it is that loud when I do it? A couple of minutes later she emerges from my room. It is pretty clear that this is wearing a diaper. The fact that she is bowlegged makes it pretty obvious.

“How do you walk so normally in these all the time Ais? I mean I wear diapers like this for nighttime protection, but all the time? I am walking like a duck.”

“I dunno, just used to it I guess. I actually feel like I am walking funny when I am not in a diaper.”

“And when is that?”

“From the changing pad to the shower, generally I just have a plastic panty on at that point.”

“Okay, wow, you really are never without protection, are you?”

“Nope, I mean I have to be protected in some form or another at all times. I mean that fact that I shit myself in a crowded restaurant probably drove that home for you, right? I need diapers.”

“Wait. You did that in the restaurant? When?”

“Right after the waiter brought us the portable credit card machine. I stood up, and as I did my bowels released. Just like that.”

“Wow, I didn’t even know.”

“Practice baby, practice.”

We both giggle at that. She and I know that it is totally true, I did practice at it. I got so good it became automatic.

“Ais?” I look over at her “In a weird way I really envy you. Not that fact that you are totally incontinent, but just the fact that you embrace it fully. It is part of your life, just as it is part of mine. The difference is you don’t shy away from it like I do. How do you do it?”

“I don’t know Emily, I really don’t. Maybe it is because I chose to be this way. The fact that I made the choice to become incontinent. Where you did not, it was forced on you. I chased it.”

“Huh, I never really thought of it like that.”

“Few people have ruminated on incontinence as long or as hard as me.”

“Touché.”

“Want a drink?”

“No thanks, I think I am going to go home.”

My disappointment must have shown on my face, because she waddled over to me and gave me a kiss, and told me she had a wonderful time. At that point who am I to argue? She calls a taxi and departs, leaving me standing in my living room alone.

Part VI

I am standing alone in my living room, Emily having just left my place. Our first date? I think it went pretty good. I walk over to the liquor cabinet and pour myself a hefty drink. I sit-down on the couch and relax. Finishing my drink I stand, check my diaper (all good there), and go to bed.

Saturday passes with nothing of any real interest happening, I wake up, etc. I do go back to the gym, if I am going to do this I am going to do this right. No sparring today, just cardio, weights and bag time. Tony, is there and acts as trainer. It takes a real sadist to be a boxing trainer. Finishing up at the gym, I change and hit the town. I need some new outfits for work and play, and having just got paid, I can afford them. I cruise about the boutique shops, and see nothing that I like or can afford. So, I go to The Bay. This is more fitting me. I pick up some nice trousers, and skirts. A few more tops. I avoid the lingerie section, not really my scene. Getting home, I pack away all my new clothes, I needed to bulk out my closet. My phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi Ais, it’s Gillian. A couple of the girls from around the school are going out to a movie and drinks tonight. Interested?”

I had nothing else to do and getting to know my co-workers on a more social level would be good, so I agree.

“Perfect! Pick you up at 1815. Sound good?”

“Sure thing, sounds like a plan; see you then.”

I hang-up the phone and try to find someway to occupy the rest of my afternoon. I do. Soon enough it is time to get ready for the show. I go to my room and start prepping my new diaper. I take a booster out and lay it in the diaper, making sure that it is contained within the leak guards. I remove my used diaper, give myself a thorough wiping off and re-cream, re-powder, and re-tape. My most dangerous parts are once again safely contained. I go to the sink and wash my hands. Getting dressed, I decide to try out one my new outfits. It works well I think. My diaper bulge is noticeable, but not overly so. Besides, that hardly bothers me. I put on my shoes, and await the call. It comes, and I go downstairs. Gillian is at the door. I exit the building and walk with her to her car.

“That is a nice top you have on there. Is it new?”

“Yeah, I just got it today. I was running short on combinations, and work clothes are kinda drab and boring. So, I decided to splurge.”

“Well you have good taste.”

“Thanks”

We got to her car, it was a nice sporty Benz. I don’t know much about cars, but what I did know, just from looking at it, is that it was fast. I was not wrong.

We arrived a concerningly short time later at the bar and I unclenched my hands from the fine suede seats. I must have had a look on my face. Gillian remarked that I looked tense.

“You think? This is not Les Mans here Gill, it is a city street. We are just lucky that there were no speed traps about, or you would have been screwed.”

“Oh, I don’t worry about that, my husband is a police detective. Any tickets I get for speeding or parking get taken care of by him. Not that I abuse the privilege at all. Wink wink.”

It is good to know that there are somethings that don’t change the world over, cops do favours for other cops. Not fair, if I were to drive like that I would have been strung up by my heels and beaten. Well, not much I can do about it anyways. I am still looking for a beater to call my own. We walk into the restaurant and sit at the bar to await the arrival of the others. As we wait we make small talk. Gill asks the question that so far, she has refrained from asking.

“So, the diapers?”

“And?”

“What is it like? I mean I understand the physics behind it, I am just curious to know how it feels to rely on an external object for protection. I mean I use pads for my periods, but what is it really like, to use them for everything?”

“You get used to it, I mean it has been so long for me now I can’t really remember any other way. It started when I was 12, and by 15 I was wearing these.” I make a general motion to my diaper area. “That’s over 10 years Gill, long time. I don’t love it (a lie), but I have gotten used to it, and I have grown to appreciate what they do for me.”

“That was a very well put answer Ais, sort of like accepting that you need them, and living with that fact.”

“Exactly” We cheers out drinks. I am a little curious what piqued the question, I mean she has had all week to ask me at work, why wait? As I am mulling this over the second group of girls arrives, seeing each other we stand, pay, and head towards the theatre. While we are walking, I feel my diaper warm slightly. I am nowhere near leaking, I ignore it. Arriving at the theatre, we get our tickets and take our seats.

The movie is the sort of corny, Nicholas Sparks type stuff that we girls really go in for. As per the formula we are all misty eyed by the end. I hate how one man has made so many things to bring us to tears, bastard. He has a licence to print money with that power. We stand up after the show and leave the theatre. As we are walking I see a car parked outside the bar we were headed to. I feel my heart rate go through the roof. I start hyper-ventilating. I know that there is nothing wrong, or suspicious about that car in particular, but all the same I am freaking out over here. I stop walking. The rest of the group continues on. I am standing there on the sidewalk just staring at that car and having a panic attack. I thought I had this beat, fuck. After a couple of paces Gill starts looking around, spotting me behind the group she makes a ‘come on’ gesture. I just stand there. Looking confused, she yells.

“Ais? You good?”

What am I going to say? That I am having a serious meltdown back here. Play it cool.

“Ye-yeah! Jus had to tie my shoe.”

“Well come on then.”

“Sure just give me a moment.” I kneel down and pretend to tie my shoe. Gill and the group are waiting on me. Time to force myself to move. I rise and start walking towards them, and the car. I stop again. Gill looks confused.

“You sure you’re okay Ais?”

“Gill, can I speak with you for a moment?” Gill starts walking towards me, with a somewhat annoyed look on her face. She gets up close to me, and sees the sweat pouring down my face. Her annoyance turns to concern.

“You don’t look so hot Ais, are you sure you are okay?”

“Gill, I am going to need your help with something, kind of embarrassing.”

“What?” There is a note of cautious distaste in her voice.

“I need you to hold my hand and help me get into the bar. That car is really giving me flashbacks. I know that there is nothing wrong with it, but you need to help me. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, sure. Why are you having flashbacks? Acid scab fall off or something?” She says in a lighthearted manner. This is no time for humour.

“Gillian. This is no time for humour, help me get into the bar, and I will tell you okay. Just help me.” I say it like an order, and she obeys.

We get into the bar, and as son as we do I run to the loo. I am going to be sick. I am. Leaving the stall, I see Gill standing there at the sink. She looks really worried.

“Okay, so what the hell was that about? Flashbacks, nausea?”

“I have some minor mental health issues, I am working through them.”

“Oh? Care to share them?” I don’t really want to. Talking about them always makes me feel worse, it is easier to bury them deep. Deal with the consequences. I thought that Ben and I had gotten a handle on this one. I guess it slipped.

“Okay.” That takes me by surprise, why did I say that?

“Good. I am going to tell the girls that you are sick, and I am taking you home. Then you can talk to me.” She goes to the table and explains the situation to the others. I get some sympathetic waves, and Gill starts walking back over towards me. We leave the bar, and that car is still there. Curiously enough it is not bothering me anymore. I have no explanation for that one.

We get to my flat and I let her in. It is nothing fancy, I mean it is a two bedroom flat. What more needs to be said? Either way she is in my place. I close the door.

“Okay, spill. What the hell was all that about?”

“Do you want a drink? I am getting one.” I walk over the liquor shelf and pour myself a heavy-handed Jamison’s. I get rocks. I take a deep drink. Gill is staring at me. I am just putting off the story. Well here is goes.

“You know I am Irish right?”

“Right.”

“Do you know where in Ireland I am from?”

“Dublin?” I assume given her answer she is unaware of any other large cities on the Irish Isle.

“I am from Belfast.”

“Okay.”

“Well back when I was growing up there was and still is a lot of tension between social groups in my hometown. Have you ever heard of the Irish Republican Army?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Well they and their equally violent, but far lesser known counterparts the Ulster Volunteer Force. Used to detonate bombs that were placed in parked cars. Generally, they gave a warning phone call. To allow people to leave. Sometimes they didn’t. I was caught up in the latter when I was 18 years old.”

“OhmyGod! That must have been terrible!”

“Yes it was” I can feel the emotion rising in my chest, I am going to cry. Hold it together Aisling! “The concussion, threw me 20 feet. Broke my leg, and fractured my skull. It also left me with some rather interesting souvenirs in my abdomen.” I lift my shirt a bit, exposing the waistband of my diaper, as well as several of my scars. The scars are from shrapnel. Doctors removed most of what they could find. There is still some in there. I lower my shirt again, hiding them.

“Oh Aisling. I am so sorry you had to go through that. That must have been terrible!”

“It was. It left me broken, and scarred. The physical ones healed readily enough, the mental ones not so quickly. I saw a therapist for a couple of years after, he helped me. Gave me some coping strategies.” As a sick joke, I rattle the ice in my drink. Ben did not advocate self medicating with alcohol. That is my choosing. “But every now and then, something triggers it. Like a parked car, or smell, or a sound. The memories come right back to the front, and I freeze. I am okay now, just a little embarrassed.”

“Wow, that sucks. You have a really good reason. I just don’t know what that must have been like for you. I mean wow, I am so sorry.”

“Thanks Gill. Actually, it felt good to talk about it. You are the first person to whom I have told that story, other my Mum, and therapist. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome Ais. I think I will take you up on that drink now. But first may I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, it is the second door on your right.” She gets up from the couch, and walks over there. While she is doing whatever it is she is doing in there. I freshen up my drink, and pour her one. I hear the toilet flush. That is probably the first time since I moved into this flat that it has been used for its intended purpose. I mean I use the toilet, old soup, or bad noodles, they get the sewer treatment. I just don’t use it for that. I can’t. I check my diaper, pretty wet, but not too bad. Gill comes back and takes her seat. I give her the drink and we sit and enjoy. She takes and experimental sip, and I see her face contort. I had her pegged as a wine or cocktail girl, I think I am right.

“Drink okay? I have some beer in the fridge if you would prefer.”

“No thanks.” Cough “It is just that it has been a while since I drank whiskey. Normally I go for cosmos or wine” I knew it. Cosmos? Gross. The ultimate in Girley drinks.

“Well, I can’t help you there I am afraid, what I can do is freshen that up for you.” Before she has time to refuse I top it up with some more raw spirit. I took away her evening with friends, the least I can do is get her somewhat liquored in payment. The drinks flow, and Gill is pretty far gone. I am still okay, I can drink. I mean Tony, might be able to outdrink me, but he has me on the body weight. That is an unfair advantage. Eventually Gill goes home, she has the presence of mind to use one of those designated driver services. I ma glad about that. After she is gone, I change and go to bed. Not the night I had planned.

Sunday comes and goes, with nothing really of interest. I phone Emily, we plan another date for Saturday. We are going on a little trip to the woods. I am excited, I mean I have never been to the great Canadian forest, this is gong to be cool. I go back to the gym, do it right or don’t. More weights and cardio, and a small sparring session. Nobody getting carted off in an ambulance today. Johnny is back from furlough. Still not allowed to fight, but he is at least allowed to do bag work. I walk up to him.

“Hey Johnny, feeling better?”

“Huh? Yeah, thanks. Still got a little headache, but you gave me a wicked ring to the dome there. I am lucky I didn’t get short term memory loss. The changeup was really cool, put he zap on me in a hard way, I mean I couldn’t adjust to that.”

“Thanks Johnny, you are a pretty decent fighter yourself. I was wondering why you threw that haymaker in the first though?”

“Actually, it is because I was trying to get out of the ring as fast as possible, I thought you were going to be a less than challenging adversary so I was trying to take the easy way out. It didn’t work.”

“Nope, it did not. Tell you what though. You got some good reach on you, if you had managed to keep me at a distance, and chip away at me, I think it may have been a different outcome. I am in shit shape, and I am an inside fighter. Keeping me at a distance is the only way to win.

“Inside fighter you not, your cross is wicked, and your jabs are like trucks. What is your secret?”

I show him my hands, they are brutal looking for a woman who is not a labourer or carpenter. Full of scars, and lumpy knuckles. I have broken my hands so often that they had to put metal plates in to keep me from recessing the knuckles any further. Give me a tonne of extra weight for throwing. It hasn’t ruined me from being a nurse, but let’s just say that fine needlework is not in my future.

“Okay, I see how you throw so hard now.”

“Yeah, bit of a double-edged sword, fucked up hands, but heavy. Anyhow, I got to go, glad you are feeling better Johnny!” I take off from the gym and start my walk home, stopping by the shops I get some light groceries.

My theory is this, if I shop a day at a time, I don’t really need to worry about carting a whole tonne of stuff home. Many little trips, as opposed to one big one. By shopping small I am able to frequent the speciality deli’s and such that I love so much. Also, it lets me shop local, something I am a huge fan of, if people are going to assume all the risk and have a go at a business, especially a business I love, I will do what I can to help them out at it. Getting home, I put the groceries away. My diaper is done. I took a hell of risk not changing it after the gym, and going by the shops afterward. It was a serious gamble. I didn’t leak, but my diaper sort of exploded inside. You know that squishy stuff that actually does the absorbing. Well right now I am covered in it. Time for a shower. I get a new diaper out and prep it. Instead of taking my old one off I un-snap the panty and walk into the loo, stepping into the shower. It is only then I unstrap my diaper. I am covered in little beads, fuck I hate these things they are such a pain to get down the drain. I shower up and start trying to corral them down the drain. After finishing that I walk back to my diaper, and tape up. Feeling fresh, I start preparations for dinner. Not 5 minutes into making dinner I mess. Seriously? I just put this one. Fuck. One of the inconveniences of incontinence, total unpredictability. I mean it was not my large mess of the day, but it was a mess not withstanding. I stop what I am doing. One thing I cannot do is cook in a dirty diaper, that is just gross. Sitting in it, for a while, fine. Cooking, not a chance. I change, as I do so I think to myself, what a waste of a diaper. I make dinner. Not bad, just some spaghetti and red-sauce. No meat this time, I couldn’t be bothered. I wash up and grab a smoke on the balcony. I fritter away the rest of the night, change again and go to sleep. Monday is coming.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

I haven’t read this yet and I probably won’t get to it for a bit, so I won’t comment on the content.
But let me say again, welcome to the forums.

Also, thank you very much for posting something longer than a single paragraph. :smiley:

However, I will also say that you may find a lot less people will take the time to read this one, simply because it doesn’t have line-breaks. Line-breaks will make this significantly easier on the eyes, and that will attract more potential readers.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

I see we have another victim of “My word processor says there is space between these paragraphs even though there isn’t.”

Sadly this is one of those formatting bugs I can’t automatically fix without risking screwing up the formatting even worse.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

So it would seem. I am unsure how to do line breaks in this forum. DD seems to input the formatting without issue. Also I am too lazy to go thorough the whole thing and press space every time. Therefore I don’t know what to day.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

Welp, looks like this one just got pushed a lot farther back in the queue.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

Okay, let’s start with the fact that Daily Diapers is running on very different software. A big difference being the WYSIWYG editor, which is what determines how copy and pasted text gets formatted. Now let me give you a bit of advice you’ll want to heed before the responses you get make the reputation comment you received and vearynope’s commentslook like glowing recommendations. Users around here really don’t like authors who admit they’re too lazy to make sure their posts are readable. In fact it usually ends fairly badly. As such you might want to reconsider your position.

You really don’t want to see just how many ways a person can be politely told their story stinks because of formatting issues.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

From these comments so far, I can’t tell if this is becoming a bonfire or a funeral pyre. I’ll just sit back and watch the flames either way… while not reading the actual story because I don’t have any desire to read formatting eyesores and give myself reading headaches.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

[QUOTE=XenonVoid;67449]…not reading the actual story because I don’t have any desire to read formatting eyesores and give myself reading headaches.[/QUOTE] This. I was looking forward to reading your story, especially after the awesome introduction you gave yourself in the Welcome forum. Saying you’re too lazy to go back and add in spaces is…well, at least you’re honest about it. I’ll give you credit for honesty. So I’ll be honest, too. It’s like giving potential readers the middle finger.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

Just read this and it is good. A couple typos here and there, but nothing serious.

Line breaks would help a lot with making it easy to read, though. If the indent bbcode tag is behaving, adding that would be an improvement. I think the size of my screen and the text size has something to do with why it’s readable for me. Shorter lines would make this an unholy wall of text. I’d advise playing with the editors (there are three for the site) to see if any of them will take a direct copy paste and produce nicely formatted output before manually adding line breaks.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

None of the editors will preserve space that isn’t there. The default editor is the only one that preserves any formatting except line breaks.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

It is not that I am unwilling to add the line breaks as they appear in the original MS Word doc. Rather it is just that I don’t have the time to invest to go through 50 pages of text and manually input line breaks. If there is a speedier way to do it I am open to suggestions. Lazy is just the word I use.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

Which version of word are you using? Depending on the version it may be easy to fix with just the search and replace tool. I’ll be the first to tell that my knowledge of how to do it in versions older than 2010 at this point is non-existent but generally open the Search and Replace tool (CTRL+H), and switch to advanced mode (some older versions say Advanced on the button, newer ones say More >> you’re in the correct mode if you can see the check boxes for Match case and similar), then use the special menu to insert a Paragraph mark into the Find box, and then use the same button to insert 2 paragraph marks into the replacement field. Do a replace all then copy and paste and you’ll be good to go.

Don’t save over the original document though or it’ll mess up when you copy and paste into DD’s editor. :slight_smile:

Believe me, if it were possible to fix the editor on here without breaking things I would do it in a heartbeat. I actually tried in the weeks leading up the migration and CKEditor is too tightly integrated into the vBulletin core to allow it to be fixed without breaking things.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

I enjoyed this story. The characters are done well, use of time is effective—we’re not getting bogged down. Lack of paragraph separation was annoying, so I cut-and-pasted it into a text editor and added them there for my pleasure. (I could send you the adjusted document if you want, and/or the diffs for a few typos I saw.)

Discontinuities: The story starts presumably in the fall, because it’s the start of the school year and there’s lots of cleaning to do. Then at one point a few days later, it’s late winter and cold. The other question I’d have is whether it’s realistic for Ais to be a fighter if she’s got shrapnel in her still.

The ending feels—always leave them wanting more? A lot of threads are incomplete, and yet I get an overall sense Ais is settling into her new life in Canada, which makes this an acceptable ending.

There’s a feeling of realism about this story—I wonder if the author working through their own life’s questions (something I’ve done with my own writing). If so, extra thank you for sharing.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

I took your suggestion. It has been edited and re-submitted. Thank-you for the advice. Sorry if I came off as a dickhead in the earlier comment but I have been a little stressed as of late. Mea Culpa.

Re: Diapers and Me: A love story

Re-submitted with formatting issues resolved. Thanks Peri for the advice.

PERSONALLY I think the story ROCKED THE WALLS down. It had enough curve balls to keep you on your toes and awake. AUTHOR,PLEASE WRITE MORE LIKE THIS.
PLEASE…

I am really enjoying this story. I hope you choose to continue it!