Stubborn Ali

Hi my name is Alisandra. I am telling my story of why I love diapers and how that was not always so.

I am an only child to great parents. We live in an urban condo in Albuquerque NM. My story begins last year when I was a 9th grader at Highland High School.
The morning of February 23 started just like many other mornings. I woke up cold and clammy with my pajamas clinging to me.

I began the ritual of stripping the sheets, wiping the plastic sheet with a Clorox wipe and loading the washing machine. This didn’t bother me. I was used to it. It didn’t really bother my parents either. They never said anything or even acknowledge my bed-wetting. I unlike other kids may never outgrow it.

I managed my bed-wetting, my own way, for over five years. I reconciled that half the week dry was enough to not wear any absorbent protection.

I showered, dressed and headed downstairs for breakfast. My mom asked,“good morning Ali. Sorry I cannot make breakfast today.” She was fully dressed in a black pants suit and looked rushed and flustered. I said “A Poptart is fine,” as I washed down the bite with milk right out of the jug. “Use a glass,” Sandy snapped

“Want a ride to school? I’m showing a house near your school.”

My mom, Sandra was a tall and youthful looking 39-year-old professional with long and flowing ash brown hair.

Suddenly I realized a strange sensation my underwear was dampening, and I did not previously feel the need to pee. But I realized I had indeed peed a little. I panicked, thinking to myself, that I hope it isn’t happening again.
“Do we need to leave right away. I’m not ready” I ran upstairs and changed.
“Hurry up Ali, I’m leaving. If you don’t get down here, you can walk.”
My mom eyed me suspiciously. “You changed your pants?”

“I didn’t realize I had a big ink stain on my pocket.”

The light blue jeans I was now wearing were a bit too tight but I grabbed what I could in a hurry.

I was wearing the tight jeans with a lime green hoody that
had a skateboard brand logo across the front. I looked like a 10 year old boy with my slightly messy pixy cut and no makeup. I thought being made up was for girly girls and I hated that type.

“Alright let’s go. I will try to get the ink off your other pants when I get home. They are perfectly good jeans.”
I should have kept the darker colored jeans on I later realized despite the wet patch. They hide the pee better.

“You need to do a better job showering when you have wet nights,” my mom said. “I can smell pee still.”
Clearly she didn’t want to bring up the subject and left it at that. I’m sure that she knew I had wet my pants already and changed without washing.

I got to my first class which was basically a special education homeroom where mainstreamed students prepare their day with their homeroom advisor. The advisor was like the principal for special needs students.
I needed certain accommodations to do well at school, and I did very well. I was actually at a college level in reading comprehension and starting calculus.

The problem was I needed to type all written work and sometimes needed to dictate verbally because my I could not write legibly and my hand easily tired.

I spent Monday and Wednesday mornings in the special ed. pod just to calibrate and catch up and the rest of the time in regular classes.

I left my homeroom and headed down the hall. I saw Katrina Hull coming the opposite way with her stupid friends. “Having fun playing with baby toys in the retard class.”
“Shut up, the kids in there are smarter than your bimbo ass,” I snapped back.
“Duhuthu I smarther dern you” she mocked.
I was already welling with tears.
“Do they change your diaper in there?,” she asked.
“I don’t wear diapers, and I only go there to work on the computer.”
“Maybe you should wear diapers . Everyone knows you always smell like piss. I bet you already pissed your pants today.”
She lifted my sweater exposing the front of my pants. I couldn’t believe it.
“The baby is still dry,” Katrina announced so the whole hallway could hear.

Katrina pushed me down I lost my balance and hit the floor hard." I was crying as the four girls started chanting “pissy Ali. I got up ran in the ladies room. I heard echoes behind me where is pissy Ali baby going?”

I ran in the stall and cried. I could not deal with Katrina or anybody else. I just wanted to feel safe from the cruel kids. I didn’t smell anything on myself. But they made fun off me daily. Some kids would pinch their nose when I walked by.

I went back to pod 7, the Sp.Ed pod and stopped by the advisors Sally’s office. I asked if I could be excused from mainstream classes for the day because I was being teased and I was hysterical. " We will get your classwork and you can do it here." I went to the bathroom and tried to empty my bladder again. It was almost empty but I had to try.

I worked at my story for English class at the pod 7 computer lab.

A boy with a severe brain injury was working on a lesson on the computer to my right. His aide Latisha was helping him

James pointed at my pants and said "uh oh. I noticed the wet spot was huge. Latisha snickered as she glanced over.
How did I not notice.
I ran back to Sally’s office crying.
“Oh honey, this happens to everyone sometimes.” We have extra clothes. She pulled a pair of red sweats with the school logo out of a box. I think accidents was why the Pod 7 had a washer and dryer.

All levels of kids with “different abilities” shared these rooms. “We don’t have regular underwear for you but your clothes will be clean soon okay.” “We have special underwear if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll just wear the sweats. It’s okay.” I was so glad to not need pull-ups or diapers anymore a few years back. I did my exercises and kept my bathroom schedule sort of. All that progress could not be undone in one day.

Okay, so the truth is looking back, I can admit it now but I denied it back then, I had occasional accidents a few times a week and at night but they were to small to notice. It was my own personal secret. But that was different. I was having big accidents again. Actually, I had big accidents but only a little pee at a time.

I worked tirelessly at my independent studies through the next two hours. Sally came into the lab and said I should take a break, use the bathroom and meet the rest of the C-level class for afternoon “decompress time,” which meant social play. I realized and so did Sally that I had already peed.

Okay Ali your own pants are dry. You should wear these underwear though. She handed me what looked like a generic Goodnite. I sobbed out loud. My face was red and soaked in tears.
Sally put her hand on my shoulder and whispered, “it is okay. Some of the other kids wear these. That’s why we supply them.” “Everyone’s body is different.”
“Do I have to wear it? I won’t. I don’t need a stupid diaper.”
“No, I just think it would be a good idea. If you don’t want to, your own underwear are folded with your pants.”
“Make sure to use the potty before getting dressed.”
Why did she have to use that word I thought I’m not 3 but I sure felt like I was.

I went to the social room of the pod where the c-level kids were all screwing around. Most of the c-level class had mild learning disabilities or psychological problems.

Dean a big guy in a denim coat and greasy hair asked “what are doing here . Don’t you go to class with the good kids.”
I nodded and tried to ignore him. “Why do you walk crooked?” He asked.

Dean was mostly mainstreamed too but he needed help for his reading and writing . He had dyslexia and needed to have accommodations also.

“Stop bothering me, Dean.”
“I’m just curious. Everyone is here for a reason.”
“I have a problem that affects my motor skills,” I said.
“I have motor skills. I am going to be a mechanic when I grow up,” Dean said. “I can fix anything. I look at and figure out how it works.”
“That’s not what motor skills are. It means your bodies ability to control it’s muscles. That’s why I walk unbalanced and why I talk into the computer.”
“Is it true you are a genius,” he asked. “That’s what people say.”
“No I’m not that smart,” I replied. “Sometimes I feel like a dumb baby.” I started crying and ran away. “Wait, Ali. It’s okay. I think your smart.”
The last bell rang and I started sprinting home. I must have looked like a duck running crooked. The cool winter air reminded me I had another wet patch in the crot3ch of my pants. Why is this happening again, I wondered. I ran inside and tried to run up the hardwood steps and make for my room without talking to anyone.

Re: Stubborn Ali

I like your story alot and I KNOW it’s got realism to it because of the way you have used your wording and my own educational experience versus my own wetting issue’s. I can not wait to read more of this!:slight_smile:

Re: Stubborn Ali

The February chill filled the small Mercedes coupe as Sandy drove through the school roundabout into the street.

Maybe I have given Ali too much freedom to take care of herself,
she thought.

The heavy smell had finally lifted as she closed the windows. As she thought about it, she realized how she had mistaken Ali’s independence for maturity.

She continued driving east on Central Ave. The houses and the mountain on the horizon appeared larger the further east she drove.

She repeated affirmations before every showing that she could close a sale today.

She dreamed of owning a home every time she sold one. Anthony worked hard fishing most of the year and spent months away from home and usually returned with at least 25,000 dollars and often much more. Sandy’s dream was to make this real estate gig work so her husband could finish school and be at home again.

The middle aged couple were already at the address when Sandy arrived. The beautiful 3 story adobe towered over the driveway.
“Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, thanks for taking time out of your day to come see your new home.”
“Good morning. The house is beautiful,” responded Mrs. Anderson. “You can call me Clara.” Her husband followed with “and I’m Francis.”
“This is the cleanest and safest neighborhood in Albuquerque. It is perfect for families.”
“Do you have any kids?”
“We have two boys and two girls. Our youngest is 12 and we have one off to college in Hawaii.”
“That is great. I have a teenaged daughter,” Sandra responded.
As they continued with small talk Sandra disarmed the alarm,y and opened the double doored into the massive fourier. A brick island planter with tropical plants and a pond greeted them at the front door. A skylight gave the room bright light.
“This is a house is a jewel. It was built for a local banker in the 90s and he sold after relocating to chicago.”

She proceeded to present each room one by one, displaying all the amenities. The back door led to a poolside garden with waterfalls and in the background no other houses stood between the back yard and the Sandia foothills. “The mountain view is to die for,” Clara said. “I also love the marble floors and butcherblock counters in the kitchen.” “I can help you cook to with the indoor barbecue grill,” Francis added.

They passed back through the main family area the marble floors had just been polished and it looked so vast without any furnishings.

The large curved west-facing windows towered over the floor almost all the way up to the 12 foot ceilings.

“We’ll be contact with you by tomorrow,” Francis said as he slipped Sandras business card into his shirt pocket.
Something that Sandra had not noticed upon arriving really bothered her.They drive a Prius. Sandra thought disappointedly as they parted ways.
Assuming that they may night even be to afford the 1.2 million dollar home. What car they drive doesn’t mean anything. He said he is a doctor.

After a half day of waiting around the phone at the office, her nerves were killing her.

Sandra closed another sale for a small rambler in Los Chavez. At least she has some small victories under her belt.
She always saw herself as becoming the office star closing the biggest deals. I am strong. I am confident . I can do anything.

Anthony’s brother helped her to get her first reality job at Collin’s Reality. She knew that it was a sink or swim business.

I don’t understand why Ali’s habits have gotten so bad. She walked into Ali’s bedroom. The smell of urine hung in the air like a toddlers bedroom.

There were clothes scattered everywhere. In the corner a pile of laundry lay. Sandra sorted through it noticing a disproportionate amount of worn underwear they reeked heavily of urine and all the light colored ones were stained yellow brown.
She must be losing the control she has gained over the years.
There was no guarantee she would ever walk. Now she walks with no brace and no crutches. That’s a big victory.
There was never a guarantee she would ever potty train, but It doesn’t matter.
At least she is healthy and has all her mental capacities.

Sandra did not know how to bring up the subject of returning to training pants. She knew it would crush the poor girl. Sandra also knew Ali even was more proud to start fourth grade out of diapers than she was when she finished a 5K race last year.
Ali was hiding her problem for a long time and Sandra turned a blind eye out of pity.

Ali refuses to wear them at night and it’s just a battle that Sandra would rather not fight.

Sandra backed down from the thought, choosing to ignore the problem.

She tossed the stained underwear in the garbage can and the darker colored pairs into the laundry basket.

Sandra’s personal cell phone rang. She hoped it was Anthony calling from Alaska.

“Mrs. Gomez. Hi. This is Sally Youngers from Highland High School.”

“Hello Sally is something wrong?”

“No not at all. I was just hoping that you might have time to come in and meet with me to update Alisandra’s IEP.”
“Is she doing okay in her classes,” Sandra asked.
“Absolutely. But, her personal needs regarding hygiene and personal care have changed. It’s part of our special education department’s role to make sure we can meet her needs. I prefer to speak to you both in person.”
“Can we meet before school tomorrow. It will not take very long,” Sally asked.

After Sally hung up the phone she closed her eyes and dozed of on the sofa.
She heard the door unlock, open and slam and hast teenaged footsteps stomping up the stairs.

Re: Stubborn Ali

I sat on the edge of my bed holding the picture of our family camping trip before daddy started fishing. I miss when he was home. Mom wasn’t busy all the time.

I don’t know where all the tears were coming from. My face and shirt were wet with tears and my eyes felt so sore.

Knock, knock, knock. “May I come in Alibee.” My mom’s sympathetic voice announced. She came in anyway.

“Why is daddy not home yet. He was supposed to already be back,” I wailed.

“Honey, your dad’s schedule is not a set schedule they must meet a quota. He said they are having trouble.”

“That’s not why you are so upset, though, is it?”

"No. The kids at school are so mean. They call me smelly Ali and make fun of how I walk.
“I know honey,” my mom soothed. “You have to make some choices.”
“If you are protected, you will smell better and they will not even know. They obviously can tell that you are wet,” my mom said.

“You know where they are, Bee. I’m not going to to you what to do.” My mom gave me a kiss on the forehead.
“If you sit in those pants like that you will get a rash. Get changed and come downstairs.”

I changed clothes. I glanced over to the closet where the dreaded garments were kept but instead I put on a clean pair of panties and some Lululemon pants.

“I made some baked macaroni casserole with smoked sausage, your favorite,” my mom said.

I was shocked that she cooked. She was acting so wierd. My mom hadn’t called me Alibee since I was like five years old. I wondered what she had up her sleeve.

We ate in front of the t.v. and watched Under the Dome.

“Bee, do you want to try to go pee,” she asked on a commercial break.
I felt so embarrassed that my mom felt the need to remind me.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“I really want you to go try. Now!”
I scuttled off and went to the bathroom. I really did need to go pretty bad I guess. My underwear were a little wet as usual.
We finished a couple episodes and my mom said she was off to sleep and I should go to bed too.
“We need to leave half an hour early,” she said. “Sally wants to have a meeting.”

My stomach knotted at that because I knew what it was about.

Re: Stubborn Ali

This is an excellent chapter it really shows well the feelings of how a kid feels when put in that situation it was a really nice touch to use the parents bribe of favorite foods and pet names etc. Before something unpleasant needs to happen. I also like the way her mom is admitting her own feelings on why she has allowed things to go the way they have so far, in my very humble opinion it makes the entire thing just a little bit more realistic feeling when things are explained. :slight_smile: I can’t wait for the next chapter :slight_smile:

Re: Stubborn Ali

The writing’s improved since the first chapter. I’m enjoying it so far.