U - Uniform

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

Years.

An eternity.

Without being a diaper girl.

I was mad at my mother in the first place for telling me to go to a shrink. As if I should “heal” my ABDL leanings. A disease, this ? Loving the texture, the support, the smell of a product that everyone had to wear at some point in their life ? What about exploring possibilities, opening to others, learning from their practices, was that bad ? Quite some time passed before I spoke to her again. When I came home from high school, I used to go directly to my room. I answered with laconic answers, if not monosyllabic, at questions during dinner. 

I was mad at my sister too, for betraying me so quickly, so shamelessly. For calling me “weird”. For not understanding the stakes, for not understanding me, who she could always rely on. We got into the habit of being a close-knit team in front of our parents. I had needed her… No! Not even her ! I had simply needed her silence and she had offered me a stab in the back.

I was mad at William, while I was at it. What did he do to comfort me ? Nothing. He stayed true to himself : gentle, docile, passive. What was I supposed to do with his kindness ? I wanted him to shake me, to ask me what was going on, to dig, to propose, to find. To exorcise me of all the frustration and loath that I carried inside. Because of the lack of outlet, I was simmering. The smallest pretext used to make me go ballistic. He eventually put an end to our relationship. It hurt, but I did not hold on to him. I threw this pain with all the others and locked everything with two turns of the key.

I was above all mad at myself. How could I have been so foolish? I should have deleted the internet history, watched the hour out or pretended I was doing something else on the computer to give me enough time to erase my traces. It was a stupid whim, anyway. I do not know what came over me… Hormones ? Yes, hormones, that surely was it. I did not really like diapers… I was not weird. I could totally do without ABDL practices.
I felt guilty to have acted in such a nasty way with William. He was not the one, but he would have deserved a nicer breakup. Cleaner, more honest. I also felt guilty to expect from my 12 years-old sister enough maturity to realise what was really going on. Truth is, she had been scared for me. She had heard often enough to be careful with what she would find on the internet not to be willing to protect me from it too. I felt guilty to make my family worry, my mother above all, who obviously was overwhelmed by the turns of the events. Talking about sexuality between parents and children is already a sensible matter. One uses the metaphor technique : the bee, the flower, the latex-dressed banana, etc. Try to enter into details, especially out of the ordinary details, and you lose everyone.
So I cried. A lot. Often alone. A little bit with my sister to which I have been able to vaguely open. I reassured her. I reassured myself at the same time. And time did what it does.

I have to say that sadness is not with my complexion. I am naturally joyful and even the throes of teenagehood did not alter my optimism long. Facing the complications that lead one to adulthood, I found shelter in simple things : some cheerful evening surrounded by good people, astounding colours of the skies of Britany, feeling the sand in between my toes, a good movie, a nice song…

I made a bonfire with my ABDL life. All that was left of it was a heap of ashes that I did not know how to deal with. I slipped that pile under the carpet, hidden from sight. It was without counting that there was quite a lot of substance and that the aforesaid carpet of my subconscious ended up with a bulge I sometimes stumbled on. A Saturday night evening, for example : Uncle, aunt and cousins came over for the weekend. We turned the TV on to watch a reality show. At some point, one of the ladies was wearing a dress that let her underwear show. In the euphoria of the gathering, when every cousins were already loudly commenting, I dropped : 

-Look ! We can see her diaper !

(Silence)

-I mean, her knickers. We can see her knickers.

(General burst of laughs, not at all followed by my sister from who I felt a heavy stare)

In the supermarkets, I ran away from any visual contact with diapers. I was even making a detour away from the central alley so I could avoid passing by.
Our neighbour had broken her leg slipping on wet dead leaves. Her husband was a lorry driver and could be away several days in a row. The youngest of their 3 children was still wearing diapers. We would often pay her a visit to help her, if needed, in some petty chores. One day, she asked me to do some shopping for her, including (you see it coming), a pack of diapers. Just seeing this word written on the list between shampoo and basmati rice, I started blushing and sweating. I wanted so hard to escape from this, but I could decently not refuse this favour to her.
When I entered the supermarket, I carefully placed each article in the trolley and kept the diapers for last. After a nice bit of procrastination, I walked into the baby aisle. All my senses were on alert. I was ashamed. A was ashamed even though I was not doing anything shameful. Still, I was ashamed. Deep inside, I knew I would give everything up to try again. Try again that “weird” practice which gave me so many happy-happy moments. My heap of ashes was slowly turning into a volcano.
I caught with the tips on my fingers the type of diapers requested and set them down, looking somewhere else. In order to put it on the conveyor belt, I focused all my attention taking it by the plastic wrap so as not to be in contact with the diapers itselves and covered it with everything I could. Back to my neighbour’s, I ensured that she would take care of the bag containing the diapers pack while I was doing something else. And I left. Fast. I spent the rest of the evening in my room, claiming I had a belly ache for not coming to dinner. Indeed, my guts were in knots. Why in hell was I still sensible like this ?

Some weeks later, I passed the highschool certificate. This diploma opened a new horizon to me : going to college in an yet-unknown city. Plans were made with an acquaintance of mine to share a flat. She will be following some nurse study and was for years a volunteer firefighter. I did not know it yet, but I would soon develop a taste for uniforms…