Identity
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“I know you are a big girl. But sometimes even big girls need a little help keeping their pants dry. Now this is just in-case, and if you can go a few of days without wetting the pull-on training pants, then I will be happy to put you back in normal panties.” The woman told Lindsay, who was standing in soaked pants and panties for the second time of the day.
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Lindsay knew that she would have a hard time keeping them dry for even two days, but she was an adult not some little kid like this woman thought. And she did not belong in Pull-Ups, like some elementary school kid who hadn’t mastered toilet training yet. ‘Damn my weak bladder’ she thought. This was only making her more embarrassed and helping to confirm the woman’s belief that she was a young girl lying about her age. Lindsay started to complain and reiterate that she was eighteen and not a toddler.
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“I know you’re not a toddler, you are a big girl like I said. But the more you lie and say you’re eighteen, the younger and less mature I am going to be convinced that you are. And you know that you should be wearing protection just as much as I do. You don’t want to embarrass yourself anymore than you have, by having more accidents and ruining furniture or carpet or worse having an accident in public and have everyone see that you still can’t get your pee pee in the potty. Now stop fussing and cooperate with me. I am starting to get impatient.” The woman was speaking more firmly than she had been. Gone was the coddling voice of a patient woman calming a little girl.
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Lindsay started to cave “If I keep them dry for the rest of the day, will you let me have my panties back before bed.” Lindsay tried to negotiate.
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“Definitely not.” The woman said bluntly. “If you wet this much during the day I can’t imagine that you could be anywhere close to successful at keeping your bed dry without a diaper. And you are going to have to prove to me that you can get to the toilet when needed before I can think about letting you run around my house without any protection. When my kids were still around, if they had an accident they would have to wear training pants for a week. And if they did not make it to the toilet twice in a row like you, they would be back in diapers until they could prove they were ready for training pants. If they couldn’t keep their training pants dry for at least a week there was no way they were going to wear thin cotton panties and wind up soaking wet again and again.” The woman continued rattling on “Why one of my girls wore training panties every day ‘till she was ten, and I would put her back in diapers on occasion until she was thirteen.”
‘Great’ Lindsay thought ‘she must think I am younger than that’. -
“How old do you think I am?” Lindsay asked.
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“Honey…” she said in seeming resignation, “I already know that you are eleven. The people from child services already told me a lot about you.”
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Lindsay had always been mistaken as much younger than she was. She was brought children menus by waitresses almost every time; and often assumed to be the younger sister when in-fact she was seven years older than her sister. It also probably did not help that she had completely pissed herself twice in front of the woman or that she was wearing her hair in pigtails. ‘But it is not my fault’ she thought as she remembered how she had just peed her pants twice. ‘I couldn’t help it. I could never hold it for very long. So what if I pee myself occasionally, everyone has accidents it’s just been a bad day.’ At this point she was so bothered; she turned around and started storming away from the woman, very obviously upset.
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“Young lady stop your temper tantrum this instant. I might just have you take a long nap and then sit in the corner afterwards so you can think about your attitude with a clear mind.”
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“NO!!! I am an adult not some little child for you to fuss over and… and… and PUT IN DIAPERS!” Lindsay immediately felt guilty (as she turned her back again) about treating this nice lady that had taken her in, so mean; but who did she think she was? Who gave her the right to decide Lindsay belonged in Pull-Ups like a toddler?
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Lindsay was grabbed by the shoulders and turned back around with ease. She was forced to crane her neck back, in order to look at the much larger woman. The woman bent down and face to face told Lindsay: “If one of my children had mouthed off to me like you just did they would have one very red behind. Now you have shown me that you need someone to take care of you. I am finished raising my own children but I cannot let you just roam the streets with nothing but drenched trousers an empty belly, and I imagine, soon, a very bad case of diaper rash. Now let’s get you cleaned up and rested; and after you take a nice nap we will continue this conversation. Hopefully you will have a little bit more maturity with a rested head. And if after you understand your situation fully and you still choose, in sound mind, that you would rather be turned back over to child services than stay with me, I will consider it.”
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Lindsay knew the woman was right. Even though Lindsay was eighteen she had never been without her parents or sister before. It would be a very hard time. And she knew there was no way she would be able to function independently at this point in her life. She really was very childish in many ways still; even if she hated to admit it. As much as she fought it, everyone treated her like a child, therefore she had failed so far to take on many responsibilities. She and her sister were rarely treated any different. She often fell into acting like a child, many times because that is what everyone expected of her, even those who knew her treated her different than other girls her age. Secretly, she may even have liked being able to act like a little girl. Though she would not admit this truth, even to herself.
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The woman led her by the hand to the spare room, and had Lindsay drop her wet drawers. She then laid down a towel on the bed and went to the closet and pulled out a package of size seven Pampers. “You said Pull-Ups!” Lindsay said with dismay. “I not a baby! NO DIAPERS!”
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“You better not start this again Natalie. I will let you wear training pants when you wake up. But training pants are meant to be used when you are awake and can get to the toilet to go pee. They are not meant to be used while little ones are sleeping. Now lie down and stop fussing.”
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Lindsay was in a daze. No wonder; she thought Lindsay was Natalie, that’s why she thought Lindsay was only eleven. Lindsay’s head was just not working right after having her whole family had died in the car crash. Lindsay obeyed Monica with apprehension and despair she laid down ready to be put in a diaper at eighteen years old.
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When she woke up, Lindsay was quickly keenly aware of the warm bulky mass of wet diaper between her legs. She must have wet herself not long before waking up. Still, she felt much better now that she had had a little rest. Much less of that quivering emotional surreal entity that she was. She started to think about her sister, Natalie, the sister she was now thought to be. She wondered if Natalie could see the predicament that Lindsay was in now. She started to cry. The woman opened the bedroom door.
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“Awe honey, it will be alright honey.”
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“How would you know?” Lindsay said with attitude.
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“Honey, where do you think my children are? My children passed away six years ago in a horrible car crash when my husband was hit by a freight truck. I miss them terribly still. But we have to remember how great life is and how they would want to see us happy and that’s what keeps us going. We celebrate their life by celebrating our life.” Lindsay was taken aback. She never imagined that Monica could have also lost her family in a car crash. Lindsay could not imagine living for the next six years and never getting to see any of her family again. She started to cry again, and Monica took her into her arms and pulled her up out of the covers and into a big hug. Lindsay snuggled her face into Monica’s big shoulder. Lindsay realized that the woman had her arm under Lindsay’s drenched diaper. She felt like a six year old, well like her six year old self. At six she had still had still been in diapers, even if most six year olds were long out of them.
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“I’m not Natalie. I am Lindsay.” She exclaimed
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“I will call you whatever you like dear, I mean Lindsay. Now maybe we should get you changed out of this very wet diaper before you get a rash.” ‘She doesn’t understand’ Lindsay thought.
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“My sister, you think I am my sister. My sister is… I mean was, eleven. I am not eleven,” Lindsay continued with a lump in her throat. “I am eighteen.”
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Monica sighed. “Really, you’re going to go on with this ‘I’m eighteen’ malarkey. I thought you would be done with the lying after you had a good nap.” Monica said, sounding exhausted.
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“I’M NOT LYING!”
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“You tell such tall tales that it is just not believable. Even if you were not in my arms wearing a drenched diaper, from the third time you wet yourself today, I may add, I would not believe that you were eighteen my dear. But, we will go check to see if they got you confused with your sister, and IF they did we will find out how old you really are.” Monica told Lindsay. Lindsay laid her head back on Monica’s shoulder. Glad to have someone tenderly take care of her. She should be more upset by being mistaken for her much younger sister, but it actually was a great comfort in her time of emotional devastation, even if she tried not to admit to herself that she was happy about it. “Truly child, I think you should consider telling the truth. Even if you were to convince me that you are older than eleven, it would not change what you think it would. You have trouble with bladder control, and no matter how old you are that still would mean that you need to wear protection. So… why don’t you just admit the truth now.”
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Lindsay could not win. She imagined going to her senior year of high school in these puffy diapers, wearing snap button crotch pants to allow for changes. She just could not win. Maybe being eleven was not all that bad. She would not have to worry about college and she could just coast in school and still get straight A’s. The internal battle raged for almost five minutes while she lay resting in Monica’s arms. Monica seemed in no rush.
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“Okay.” Lindsay said.
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“Okay? Okay to what?” Monica did not seem to follow Lindsay’s train of thought.
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“Okay, I’m eleven. Okay, my name is Natalie.”
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“Okay.” Monica responded. “I am very happy to meet you Natalie.” Monica then kissed Lindsay on the forehead before laying the girl down on the bed. Soon ‘Natalie’ was wearing Pull-Ups waiting for pants. Monica just asked, “Now, why don’t we go down stairs, cuddle under a blanket, and watch a movie.”
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“Okay.”
