If you didn’t already know, I blog about trips I take. I can’t always mention *everything* that happens during them since, well, it’s a vanilla blog. But that doesn’t mean the trips are entirely vanilla. After all, we are camping which means a lack of easy access to the bathrooms. As someone who grew up a bedwetter well into my adult years, I tend to find it best to wear when camping.
Plus, my bladder sorta hates me. It’s small and when full; painful. As a result, I also wear on long car trips to avoid having to stop every hour or two for a quick potty break. Since it was just Lys and I, it wouldn’t be a big deal either. That and she likes to hike my dress up while I’m driving and expose my diaper ever so little. I’m sure the passing truckers get a kick out of it.
I’ll spare you the boring mundane normal blogging descriptions. Like the whole getting up at 4a, then leaving the house at 5a, getting to WaWa only to discover we left all the food. Those details. I’m pretty sure that’s not what you’re hoping to hear about. Instead, I’m pretty sure you want me to write about how my diaper leaked while having lunch.
See, Lys and I decided this trip we’d cook all our own food. Even on the drives. So somewhere along 95 in South Carolina we pulled over at a normal rest area, found a pavilion far away from the groups and set up my camping stove and began cooking some hotdogs.
At this point my diaper was already a tad wet. I was actually a little surprised by how dry it was, but I was also wearing a non-molicare so I was pretty paranoid about leaks. That could be why I was still dry. So at the table, I sat down, pulling the hem of my dress up so my diaper wouldn’t be on top of it, and decided to finish emptying my bladder. Oh sweet relief. For someone who has interstitial cystitis it can be such an amazing relief to just let go.
Only, as I expected, this diaper would leak. *sigh* At least I was smart enough to not be sitting on the hem of my dress, or so I hope. Just as I was about to stand up and ask Lys to check out my ass, an elderly couple comes walking up and sits at the adjoining picnic table. *sigh*
I stood up, trying to discreetly check for any wet spots on the concrete bench. Yelp, I leaked. Only, now I can’t check my dress for any wet spots. Argh! So I quietly whisper to Lys to check my butt as I walk to the car for any wet spots, as I needed to go grab a spare so I could change in the bathroom now that our privacy was killed.
At the car I looked over at Lys who confirmed I was dry. Or at least, visibly dry. *wink wink* I grabbed one of the few remaining Molicare, stuffed it in my purse with a ziplock full of baby wipes and waddled off to the bathrooms. Okay, it probably wasn’t really a full waddle, but I certainly felt like I was waddling with how puffed and wet my diaper was.
Now, yes, I know, I’m supposed to be a pro at this. I’m supposed to be able to trot into the bathroom, rip off my über crinkly diaper and throw care to the proverbial wind! Psssssh. Nah, I’m still a complete and utter baby when it comes to changing in a public bathroom in the middle of South Carolina full of old women. *sigh* All I managed was taking my wet diaper off, wiping myself clean, rolling it up and trying to stuff it in the little trashcan meant for tampons and pads. It *kinda* fit in that it didn’t really fit way. I was so nerve-wrecked I darted for the sinks, quickly washed my hands, and rushed out. I just couldn’t put my Molicare on.
Don’t ask, but for some reason I thought it was better to be walking around commando than to put a dry diaper on. So that’s what I did. As I walked past all the people sitting in their parked cars, I felt like they could all tell I was airing out my vagina as I hurriedly scampered past them. Yes yes, I know, they’d have no way to know I’m currently not wearing any panties, or a diaper for that matter.
Making it back to the safety of Lys, I confess to her quietly that I was too scared to put the dry diaper on. *sad face* She looked at me, giving me that disapproving look of hers, and reminded me it’d just just sound like I was unwrapping and sticking a pad. Yeah, I know she’s right, but in my little world it sounded more like I was broadcasting to the whole world that the girl in stall 3 was taping a super crinkly diaper around her hips. *sigh* I’ll just slip one on in the car before we pull out.
With a fresh diaper under my bum we set off again for North Carolina. Asheville to be more exact. Our campsite is at Lake Powhatan. The pictures looked nice, and it’d be semi-private enough that I could trust letting my diaper peak out from under my dress as often as I’d like.