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Wetting & Diaper Wonderland helps you connect and share with the people in your life.

At long last, here is Chapter 2! You'll notice that my writing style provides a lot of back-story so far and only hints to the events of the present from time to time. The ratio of past:present is going to shift as time goes on, but for now, It's going to remain the same. I have spent a great deal of time on this chapter, but I hope you'll agree that it was worth it

Chapter Two

One month ago, I was living in Las Vegas, Nevada in a luxury condo. I had been in a relationship with my partner, Emily for just over a year and we were both doing quite well for ourselves. Emily and I don’t have what most people would call a “conventional relationship.” I’m not referring the fact that we’re lesbians (because we’re not lesbians, dammit), but to the particular dynamic of our bond. Our relationship isn’t really sexual at all. It has a completely different foundation. She’s my “Mommy” and I’m her “little” or her “baby.” She treats me like a toddler of 3 and takes care of me as such. I have a need to regress and feel infantile, while she has a strong need to be maternal and care for a little one. We mutually and seamlessly fulfill these needs in each other.

I think now is a good time to describe Mommy (Emily) to you. Tall and slender with gossamer blonde locks and the fairest complexion I’ve ever seen paired with the smoothest skin I’ve ever laid fingers on. Her face bears an elven resemblance and her eyes have an other-worldly glow to them. To me her very presence among humans seems ethereal, but then again, I am captivated by the reality of her and am certainly prone to bias.

Our relationship has several dimensions beyond the familial one. Emily and I are best friends and share an amazing intellectual connection. We enjoy physical intimacy that has been unparalleled in my life. We have an outstanding personal relationship that we can fortunately blend into our public/professional relationship. Practically everyone in the world knows that I’m a “little” all the time and that she’s my “Mommy.”


It hadn’t taken me a long time to grow into my natural self, but it did take some time to realize the girl I was had been different from the others in school. She was the one who just never seemed to grow out of her more infantile habits, and because of that fact sometimes found it difficult to make friends. I didn’t have a problem with that… I loved me. The hardest thing for me to grow into was the loss of control over my bladder that had been taking place from ninth grade on.

My mother had been very supportive in helping find the appropriate protection for my wetting problem. After trying the pull-on style that first night, I found out that my mother was right. They were too big for me and didn’t seem to hold well enough for me to continue using that size anymore. She suggested we ask a clerk for help on choosing the right size. I was uncomfortable with the thought of anyone else finding out about my little problem, but more so hated the notion of someone thinking I wearing nappies for no reason. Before leaving for the shop, I suggested to Mum that we try the internet first to learn what we could anonymously before confronting someone I would likely be embarrassed to run into again.

After browsing a few medical forums, we learned that the pull-up style might not even be enough to protect my bed at night, but my mother didn’t believe it. She was determined to find something that worked for me that was less-damaging than putting me back into actual nappies. We returned to the shop and Mum made quick but careful business of plucking a bag of Goodnites and a pack of small-sized pull-on protective underwear from the respective shelves and heading for the door so I wouldn’t be embarrassed for any longer than I needed to be. That night she offered to help me get ready for bed again. I thought of how simple the task was and initially felt like she was insulting my intelligence, but I quickly remembered how paralyzed I felt when I tried to tackle the same issue the previous night and nodded pensively.

After dinner, I grabbed the shopping bags and retreated to my room to get a head-start on getting ready for bed. I showered, brushed my teeth, etc. and then sat on my bed staring at the bags again, paralyzed. Before I could think “here we go again”, Mum was knocking softly at my door.

“Ember…” She beckoned through the door. I rose from the bed slowly and opened the door for her. I was wearing only a towel and suddenly felt a vain fear of impending awkwardness that may have been about to occur. Mum helped herself to my laundry hamper which was full of folded, clean clothes that I’d yet to put away. She handed me a pajama top and turned her attention to the bag of pull-ons similar to the ones I’d tried the night before. I donned my pajama top and watched as she ripped the bag open and tried to pull the first one out. It was stuck, so she gave it a swift tug which caused about 3 more to come out with it all at once. She giggled and threw the extras into the shopping bag.

I sat down on my bed for a moment and thought about the freshly-laundered sheets on my bed and instantly feared another night of failure. My mum was working so hard to help me through the trouble I was experiencing. She was doing loads of extra wash, spending extra money, and giving extra-special attention to making me feel as comfortable as she possibly could in the process. I was so grateful for her. Honestly, I enjoyed the attention but it made me feel guilty for having such a nuisance of a problem for her to have to deal with.

My mum was always a very giving person. It seemed that she was always happiest when she was helping someone. I like to think I inherited that trait from her, but sometimes I’m not so sure. As I sat in reverie, she gathered up the necessary items for the readying. I felt a sudden burst of confidence and slowly stood to my feet and was as much help to Mum as I could be. I balanced myself by holding onto the top bunk and pointed my right toes, slipping my foot through the leg-hole, then followed suit with the left side. Mum pulled them up to my waist and just as I was about to turn and put some pants on, she handed me the talc I’d forgotten to apply. After I powdered myself, she surveyed the fitting of pants and seemed hopeful this time.

“I think we may have done well at the shop today, little girl.” She said with a smile. ‘Little girl’ was a nickname she used for me frequently, indicating that I was the only other girl in the family besides her, the “big girl” I suppose. I nodded in agreement to her hopeful statement, trying my best to share her enthusiasm. I pulled on some pajama pants and followed Mum downstairs to have a cup of tea with her and my father before I turned in for the night. The familiar rustle from last night was all I could concentrate on.

“Mum, you can still hear every step I take!” I complained to her.
“It’s just something you’ll have to grow accustomed to, dear.” She offered. I knew what she would remind me of the alternative if I continued. I did anyway.

“I may as well wear a bell around my neck that says ‘hello! I’m wearing a nappy!’…” I seemed less sincere in my complacency that time, knowing there was nothing I could do about it. My mother sensed it in my voice and just looked at me and shrugged.

“Your father and I already know what you are wearing and why. You’ve no need to feel bashful around us, sweetheart.” She said dryly. She was right. In honesty, the only other person who would likely find out was Rachel, who wouldn’t think any differently of me for it. I sat down at the table next to my father who reached for my saucer and teacup, slid them over to me and poured me a cup of chamomile tea, my favorite.
“How are you feeling?” He asked with a gentle voice of concern. It was a question he asked of me when I was often struggling with my heart. I could tell that he had felt guilty for having been working so much when I was a little girl, but I knew he loved me very much. Tonight he wasn’t asking in reference to my heart. Tonight, he was referring to my emotions, my state of mind, and most likely my security. My parents worried about my security because I held so tightly onto my childhood. I don’t think I was ever as insecure as they think I am, so I did my best to reassure them when I could.

“I’m fine, Dad. It’s different…” I paused, referring to my current situation, which was the obvious point of the exchange. “…I’m not scared, really. I’m just a little embarrassed. I like having nothing to hide and now I feel like I’ve something I must hide.” Father laughed lightly at this statement and reminded me,

“Well, it seems to me that a prudent young lady should always hide their undergarments, Emmy.” He said in a joking manner.

“Well, obviously.” I said, somewhat annoyed by his jesting. “I mean, it’s something that’s really not going to be easy… maybe not even possible to hide.” I stated fearfully. My father nodded in agreement and sipped his tea, set his cup back down on his saucer and looked me in the eyes.

“Ember…” He paused. “…You’re a remarkably strong young woman who has been through far worse with far less experience in how to handle it. You’re becoming very responsible and you’re no longer just along for the ride the way you were when you were little. You’re going to be fine. You’ll learn how to handle this and any other obstacles you face, because that’s you; that’s who you are. You are smart and resilient. You’re my daughter.” He said the last statement with a proud smile and finished his lecture with, “No matter what you’re going through, your mother and I will be here for you as long as humanly possible… maybe even longer!” His words, though sincere, carried an air of lightheartedness that always made me feel better about whatever trouble I was in. He had a way with picking my spirits up, for sure.

I giggled a little and looked down at my tea, digesting the truth of what he’d said. I had been through far worse, but the truth was that it was worse in a different way. I sipped my tea silently, but finished it rather quickly, then laid my head on Father’s shoulder and sighed. He wrapped his arm around me and gave me a squeeze and kissed me on top of my head.

I awoke that night to my mum shaking me. I thought I might have overslept, but I remembered it was summer and a glance at the window told me it was still dark. I had only been asleep for a few hours but already I’d had an accident. Still sucking my thumb and clutching Penelope, I sat up slowly, steadily waking into the horror that I leaked onto my sheets. I took my thumb out of my mouth, looked at my mum with hopeless eyes and started to cry rather loudly. I couldn’t tell that I wasn’t reacting the way that a young woman would, but rather the way a toddler would. Mum sat down next to me and held my head to her chest and hugged me tightly, rocked me and began to sing “Hush Little Baby” just above a whisper into my ear. I cried out a little longer, but was quickly reduced to a mere sniffle for the next few minutes as Mum continued to rock me.

“I’ll run you a hot bath and change your bedclothes, hm?” She offered. I only wanted to cry myself to sleep, but would be forced to take a bath before returning to bed. Mum handed me a towel that she’d carried in already and stood up, reaching for my hand. I stood up and she began to pull the sides of the soggy garment apart, wrapping it up and putting it in a plastic shopping bag I had stashed in another under my bed. I took the towel and wrapped it around my waist and trudged sleepily into the bathroom and sat down atop the toilet seat and waited for the motivation to run hot water. Mum was close behind and soon had a hot bubble bath running for me.

“I’m going to start your bedclothes as soon as your bath is full. Are you alright, Em?” I stood and nodded, walking to the door, eager for her to leave so I could get my bath over with.

I woke up around 10am and realized that I was wet, yet again. Instead of having a tantrum, I surveyed the bed to see if it was dry. It was, but just barely. I was sure the night’s events were nothing more than a dream until I noticed my bedclothes were different. Mum had taken my ‘My Little Pony’ bedclothes out of the linen closet and replaced my wet sheets with them. It had been a few years since I’d even seen them, so a gust of nostalgic happiness overtook me for a moment until I remembered my state.

Realizing that this wasn’t just a problem I dealt with at night, I took a quick shower and donned another pull-up, followed by a white t-shirt and some short-alls. I descended the stairs to hear my mother on the phone with who I could only assume was my doctor. I sat down on the loveseat adjacent to the couch she was sitting on and listened.

“…Other than that, my only other concern is the undergarments. They’re not protecting her bed very well and they seem a little flimsy. Do they offer anything more… durable?” She asked carefully. I blushed, but had the same concern, so I sat and listened. “…A prescription? ... Wonderful! … I’ll stop by the office later this afternoon and pick it up. Thank you Dr. Wilmont.” She hung up the phone and looked over at me as if to indicate that she had bad news. “Em… Dr. Wilmont is giving me a prescription for some undergarments that should benefit you more at night than the ones you’re currently using. By the way, how are you this morning?” She asked. I knew what she was really asking.

“Well, my bed was dry.” I said, smiling meekly, trying to show her that I didn’t need to be consoled. “Thank you for helping me last night, Mum.”

“Of course dear, I love you. Now the prescription I’m picking up for you is for a different kind of garment. These are… briefs.” She didn’t know how to word it, but when I heard ‘briefs’ I thought of boys’ underwear, but I assumed they were similar to what I was wearing. In fact, I couldn’t really see how they would be any different. “…Fitted briefs is what I have written here. They tape on instead of pull-up.” Upon hearing this, I was half-mortified. She was talking about nappies. Instantly I was taken off of my euphemistic cloud that the pull-ups had placed me on and reminded of the severity of my condition.

“…Nappies.” I replied.

“…Yes, dear.” She could tell I was mildly upset, but knew that it wasn’t with her whom I was upset. I was frustrated with the situation and was trying not to overreact. It would only be at night, so it wouldn’t affect me too much. I thought, ‘So they get put-on differently. It’s not that big of a problem.’ I was still wearing the somewhat-discreet pull-ups during the day until further notice. I was more comfortable with that.

I looked out the window and saw a cloudless blue sky and could smell freshly-cut grass. I decided not to waste such a beautiful day. I was going to let my mother know my plans for the day, but before I could, her phone rang and she was off to the other room talking to my Aunt. I instead found my father in his study trying to piece together a gadget that he’d picked up at a yard sale that morning. He didn’t hear me walk in, but saw my feet when I got close enough to him.

“Princess!” He shot out jovially, thrilled to show me his new toy. “Look what Dada acquired from a local native this morning.” He said mysteriously, trying to capture my short attention.
“What is it?” I asked, puzzled.

“It’s a film projector! From an old CINEMA!” He nearly yelled. “Films used to be shot on… well, film. They were kept in tins, like this…” He picked up a blue aluminum circular tin and handed it to me. “…and you place the film on this side and run it to this reel and it projects the picture onto a screen…” He paused, realizing he was without one still. “...I’ll have to get one of those now…” He muttered to himself and continued. “…erm… And that’s where the term ‘film’ actually comes from!” He declared, finishing his lesson.

“I know what film is Dad, I’m not daft.” I assured him as I knelt down to get a closer look at the projector. “It’s beautiful outside today. I would like to see Rachel today if I may.” I told him, asking for permission.

“Of course, Emmy. You can’t waste a day like this! It would be downright foolish! Just let me know your plans before lunch. I’m heading into town to meet your cousin for lunch and if you need a ride to Rachel’s, I can take you then.” He continued to tinker on his projector and I returned to my room to contact Rachel on myspace.

Of course, she was online. She too had probably just gotten out of bed. I happily suggested we enjoy the day together and she agreed. I told my father I wanted to see her before lunch and he was happy to take me over to her house a little early. I wanted to do something fun like ride a bike or play tag with my friends but my options were limited because of my heart condition… and my lack of friends.

We arrived at Rachel’s house and Father dropped me off. I walked to the door nervously, ever-conscious of the rustle that I could hear with every step. When I reached the door Rachel swiftly opened it to give me a warm hug. It had been a few days since we’d seen each other and she had a lot to tell me about the boy she was unofficially seeing. She asked me how I was doing and I didn’t have much to share with her. I didn’t have a problem trusting her with information; I just didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that for the past few days, my whole life had revolved around solving my inability to hold my pee. My lack of words said it all though.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” She asked. I nodded but didn’t go into detail. I had just been reminded that she might easily find out what I was wearing and was instantly self-conscious. She knew better than to badger me for details and instead gave me a friendly, reassuring hug. It made me feel better and reminded me that no matter what she found out, she would still be my friend. I followed Rachel to her room while she rattled on about the summer class she was taking.

“…and normally I don’t feel this way about my teachers, but Mr. Pitt has these beautiful blue eyes that feel like they pierce my soul.” I could tell she was feeling foolish by the words coming out of her mouth, so I interjected.

“Any relation to Brad, do you think?” I asked, jokingly. It seemed as if she wasn’t fully paying attention.
“Brad who?” She asked, hearing me but not fully participating in the mental sense. There was a short pause while I let her analyze the joke I just made so I didn’t feel start feeling foolish as well by repeating a lame joke. “Oh! Ha ha, no I don’t think so, Em. The class has been pretty easy so far. We have class pretty much all summer, but it’s only 3 days a week, so I’m not complaining.”

“I think that would cut into my vacation a little too much.” I shrugged ironically and considered that my Summer break had been pretty terrible lately and that it wouldn’t help to lie to one of my only friends. I wanted to open up to her about things, but didn’t have the courage to yet.
“I can certainly understand that, but it’s not that bad. I’m usually really bored during the summertime any. My mind likes to stay busy and I like the social aspect of seeing some of my friends every day.” After she said that last part, a resentful look came over her face briefly, presumably because she was afraid it might hurt my feelings. “I really miss you though. What have you been up to this week?” She misdirected guiltily.

I was ever trying to remind myself that the only person closer to Rachel than me was her older sister, Jen who was a 17 year-old to-be-senior. I’d met her a few times and she seemed to be a very kind and loving person, not unlike Rachel. She was one of the only people in our school who openly showed adoration for my childlike behavior. A couple of years ago, she had spent a couple of slumber party weekends with us as “added supervision” as my parents called it. She had kept us out of trouble well enough, but thankfully had regarded her job title as “playmate” instead of “babysitter.” I always revered her as a lot of fun. I was thankful that Rachel has someone so close to her with whom she could share such a tight bond. If I didn’t consider myself fortunate to be next in order of closeness, I’d be a fool. It was time I let Rachel know what was going on with me so she could support me the way she wanted to.

“Nothing much. Mostly watching movies and being really lazy. Went to the doctor the other day…” I was stopped by the fear of hearing the explanation come out of my own mouth. I had to tell her, but was struggling with overcoming her fear.

“Ah, were you sick?” She asked, not realizing why I might be going to the doctor in visibly good health. I looked at her hoping she would understand what I meant. I decided to evade and change the subject.

“Yeah, but the prescription helped considerably. My father’s been yard sale-ing this week. …Picked up an old cinema projector.” I was desperately avoiding the subject I wanted to talk to her about the most. She was sitting at her computer, absently myspace-ing while I looked over her shoulder, silently panicking. I was about two seconds from telling her but instead chose cowardice.

“I’m bored. What do you want to do?” I asked bluntly. Rachel knew my physical limitations and had embraced her inner-gamer so we could enjoy less strenuous activities indoors.

“Wanna play some co-op Halo?” She asked predictably. I dreaded the thought, only because we’d beaten it twice the previous summer and we were nearly through it for the third time, but I jumped at the opportunity to leave my current situation. Rachel sat quietly for a moment. I could tell she wasn’t feeling too enthusiastic about playing Halo either, and was thinking of a better solution. She wanted to do something that we would both enjoy together and I could tell she wasn’t going to give up until she arrived at a decision. We sat and thought together, at least I watched her think, and soon we could hear the front door opening downstairs.

“Hello?” Jen called out loudly.

“We’re up here!” Rachel replied, and turned back to me smiling, clearly happy her sister was home. We could hear Jen ascending the stairs in an excited fashion and then stop before entering Rachel’s room. After a second or two, her head popped around the corner and I started giggling.

“Oh, HI Ember!” She said in a sweet voice, as if she was talking to a toddler, pretending to be surprised to see me. She trotted past her sister, dropped her grocery bags on the floor, and gave me a big hug. While keeping her hands at my arms, she leaned back and took a good look at me. “You are getting so big!” She then turned around and gave her sister a hug and asked her why she wasn’t in class.

“The session only meets 3 times a week, so I get to play in between.” She said with a big smile. “Ember and I haven’t gotten to hang out in a while, so we’re spending the day together.”

“Well, I preordered Surf’s Up and it’s been sitting on the dining room table waiting for me to come home. Maybe we could watch it together!” Jen offered. I really wanted to see that movie and found myself nodding with a shy smile. Rachel looked over at me and could instantly recognize what my choice was. Instead of setting up the Xbox, she went down to the kitchen to make nachos for us.

Jen set up the movie and sat down next to me on the couch. She could tell I was acting differently. I was never this shy around her, but I really didn’t have anything to discuss with her that I actually wanted to talk about. She reached out to me in other ways.

“Do you need a blanket sweetie? It’s a bit chilly in here.” Jen offered. She was right. The central air was cranked and I could feel myself holding off shivers. I decided to take her up on it.

“Yes, please.” I replied meekly. She smiled and ran upstairs. Soon, Rachel returned with nachos and a pitcher of lemonade. She set them down on the coffee table and sat down on the opposite end of the couch and started eating. I sat absently sucking my thumb. My mind drifted to that morning. I recalled coming down the stairs and hearing Mum talking to the doctor’s office about ordering me different nappies. It made me feel anxious that I didn’t know what to expect, but I took comfort in the fact that I was spending time with what few friends I had. I worried about being antisocial, but I knew that Rachel and Jen would want me to be relaxed and comfortable while spending time with them. That thought process calmed my nerves a little and allowed me to let go of my stress.

The DVD menu played on idly as Jen returned to us carrying a comforter in her arms. She draped it over me, revealing in her arms a big teddy bear.

“Here’s your blankie sweetie and I brought you another friend. His name is Samuel.” She handed be the bear and I beamed with joy, hugging him to by chest and snuggling my face into his head.

“Thank you Jen” I squealed. I became a little conscious of my behavior and looked over at Rachel, who was giggling while reaching for the DVD remote. Jen sat between us. I reached the blanket over to share it, but they had both donned jumpers that were in their bedrooms. Having the blanket all to myself didn’t bother me in the least.
The movie started and I found myself half paying attention to what the plot of the movie was and more fascinated with the colors and textures and different kinds of penguins on the screen. I yawned a few times and Jen noticed that was started to fidget uncomfortably on the couch. She reached her arm behind me and guided me to lie down in her lap. I gladly accepted the invitation. Her legs were a little cold but laying on her was way more comfortable than sitting up.

Captivated by the screen, I sucked my thumb and cuddled Samuel, feeling very securely wrapped up. Jen idly played with my hair while the television held my dwindling attention. Soon, I could feel myself drifting off to sleep. In my ears, I heard the movie. My eyes were mostly closed, showing me a blurry, colorful light. The surfing penguin on the screen meant nothing to me, for it was now naptime.

I felt so warm and secure. Everything bad just melted away and I suddenly felt right. I was seconds away from sleep when she began gently patting my bum with her open hand. I was afraid she’d find out my secret… not because I didn’t want her to know, but because I didn’t want to discuss my need for nappies when I was finally feeling secure.

Before I knew it, I saw my mum standing in front of me. She was holding a spoon full of applesauce or something and guiding the spoon toward my mouth while singing an unfamiliar nursery rhyme. I resisted her feeding me and at first I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t because I didn’t want her to treat me like a baby, it was just because I was being fussy and didn’t want to eat for her. My dad was behind her trying to tell her about his cinema projector, but she simply ignored him. This fact didn’t faze him, as it appeared that he enjoyed hearing himself talk about his budding understanding of his own unique hobby. Mum managed to shovel a few spoonfuls into my mouth messily, following each successful pass with a wipe of my bib across my chin.

I was growing tired of her feeding me and turned my attention to my Dad. I wanted to tell him how happy I was to see him but all that came out of my mouth was,

“Dada! Dada!” followed by a high-pitched elated squeal of joy. Dad turned his attention to me and said,

“Aww, there’s my princess. Are you being a little angel for your mum? Yes, you are of course my perfect little angel.”

Then for some reason, my brother David who is only a year older than me, walked into the dining room. He was indeed 15 years old and towered over me. Like clockwork, he picked me up like it was nothing and carried me into the living room. I didn’t notice anything different, other than my dresser being a changing table and my bed being a crib. He laid me down in my crib and handed me Penelope, my pony. There was so much I wanted to ask him about what was going on, but only squeaks and burbles escaped my lips.

“Shhhh…” He hushed. He pulled a bottle out from under his arm and handed it to me. I took the bottle from him and I think I began nursing it, but I heard Jen’s voice say my name softly. Standing by the door, looking it at me, she continued saying my name as if I wasn’t responding to her.

“Emmy, sweetheart… Emmyyyy… Emmy I think you’re leaking, little one.” Jen said softly as I was shocked into consciousness, suddenly very self-aware and embarrassed. I recoiled a little, but didn’t move very much at first. Trying to get a grip on the situation that had befallen me, I noticed that I’d kicked off the blanket and that it was possible that Jen suspected there was a reason that I was not wearing ordinary knickers. Next it occurred to me that I hadn’t thought to bring a change with me in case I’d had an accident. Without skipping a beat, Jen’s tone hadn’t changed. Rachel was already standing, awaiting instructions. I whimpered slightly out of frustration and distress, but Jen immediately comforted me.

“Shhhh, shhhh. It’s okay precious. Little girls make oopsies all the time. Let’s get up and get you all clean, okay?” Unsure of how to feel about the situation, I was trying desperately to touch base with reality. I was used to Rachel being supportive of my little side, but I’d never had it indulged in such a way. It was a little disorienting in a couple of ways. It’s a little hard to explain, but I’ll try: Sometimes when you’re having a dream, you wake up and are caught off guard by reality. On a rarer occasion, you could be having a dream and wake up expecting reality to be a thing and suddenly find out that your dream was closer to reality than you thought. This was certainly the latter.

I slowly stood up, trying not to make any more of a mess than I already had. I looked at the wet spot on the couch and started to cry. Feeling like a wretched and terrible guest, I collapsed into Jen’s waiting arms and wept into her chest. Rachel unzipped the cover that housed the couch cushion and removed it.

“See, Ember? We just throw this in the wash and it’s like it never happened. I’m gonna go run you a bath. Do you have a change?” Rachel knew just how to cut through to my triggers and calm me down quickly, almost like she was defusing a bomb in my head. She snipped the right wires, because I was reduced from weeping to sniffling and had pulled away from Jen so that I could help them handle this. I was struggling with helping them do something so simple because I was feeling embarrassed, but I was beginning to recognize that sheer embarrassment would have sent me running for the bathroom so I could hide. This was slightly different. I was struggling because I felt so little. Rachel had just asked me if I had a change. I shook my head in the negative.

Miss Piss

Dirty Diaper Girls