I remember I got into diapers when I was 9 but for three years, I felt ashamed of it. I knew it wasn’t normal because I didn’t see other kids wearing diapers except for special needs kids and kids in my school I went to when I was 3-5 but I didn’t know they were special needs then because they looked normal and didn’t require crutches or a wheel chair.
Then when I was 12, I came across diaper sites on accident and boards talking about people liking them and their experience with it. I felt so happy because it meant there was nothing wrong with me and I wasn’t alone. It meant it was all okay to do. Of course my mother didn’t like it and told me none of it was real. I believed her and I was ashamed of it once again and buried it despite people saying on the internet they wear them. I probably knew deep down it was true. Then at age 17, I felt happy all over again when my shrink said sure there are people out there who have that fetish and do it. I had to rediscover my fetish by opening those boxes in my brain and uncovering the lies I was told by my mother saying it wasn’t all real.
Now I am happy about my fetish and feel proud. I wouldn’t want to cure it either if there was one.
Oh, yes, there have always been times when I was ashamed of this fetish. I don’t know how many times I’ve thrown away all my diapers. But the fetish has been with me since about the age of 6 or 7, and I’ve accepted that it will always been with me. I went through some pyschoanalysis when my first marriage broke up, which helped me understand the origins better.
My wife today is aware of the fetish, though she doesn’t share it with me. We’ve discussed it at times so that she understands how important it is to me, and that I can’t change it.
I sometimes get ashamed. I really don’t know why it just happens. The only thing I could think of if it is a possibility of the way my mom would act if she found out.
Sometimes I am. Even after all these years of knowing, I still ask, “Of all the possibilities in the world, THIS is what I like?” I mean, I sometimes get jealous when I see infants being cared for and cooed and all that, and I have to turn away because I always have this odd suspicion that someone just might see the look on my face and suddenly know about me.
It also makes me upset because I know I have to hide it, and I know that some people wouldn’t and couldn’t ever accept it.
Now I know what you might be thinking… “You don’t know until you tell them!” And I have told a few people who are super cool about it. but there are others who I know wouldn’t accept me due to past conversations and observances.
I remember when that one episode of “CSI” was on about the infantilist, my parents, siblings and I all watched it. I couldn’t believe what I was watching, but what made it worse was that my father said, “That’s f***ing sick! Crazy bastards!” This was followed by a couple of my siblings agreeing, and that pushed me away. My family loves me, but I always wonder if they would still love me if they ever knew, and that also makes me feel ashamed at times.
I am not ashamed of my ab feelings but I am often ashamed of my incontinence especially when it interferes with family type things. I can choose when i want to do the ab thing but not when I have to wear which is always.
While a medical condition provided the need for diapers on occasion during the day and always at night, other kids usually kept their distance.
This made things difficult, especially as a teen. Once I entered adulthood, it got easier. By then I was wheelchair bound, needing diapers 24/7 and folks just politely ignored it.
I was fortunate that family didn’t have a problem with it at all.
I will say, a great therapist helped alot, or I would have had a really hard time as a teen.
Today, I don’t feel ashamed at all as I go to bed with a bottle and sleep with a binky and my Pooh Bear. I’ve learned that these things are important to me, and always will be.
I dont talk about these things with anyone but my wife, trusted friends and on sites like this one, because this is a private thing to me.
At times I am repulsed by this fetish, not simply ashamed - I find it disgusting. Other times it is neither here nor there, but mostly I am drawn to it uncontrollably. I guess it’s purely a sexual thing for me, and when that aspect of myself is lacking I have no interest in it anymore.