Diapered With Rubber PantsWhen my Dad married my step mother, I was about 7 years old. My step mother's parents lived on a farm in Maine. So our family took regular trips from Massachusetts up to the farm, a 3 hour journey by car back in the early fifties. Our first trip up to the farm, I wet my pants, got changed into dry clothes, and wet them as well. I just couldn't hold it for very long and my Dad didn't want to make frequent stops along the way ( sound familiar ?). My grandmother suggested to my step mother that she ought to consider diapering me for such a long trip. They've gotta be kidding. Diapering a 7 year old boy? That's crazy. Right? Apparently not to my step mother.
My step mother borrowed a couple of grammy's cup towels and pinned them on me with safety pins. That's what I wore for the return trip, sitting on a waterproof sheet the whole way with no pants on. I had to ride with my cup towel diapers on where anyone could look in at stop lights and gas stops. They wouldn't give me a blanket to use as a cover because they said I would probably get it wet.
The next trip to Maine and return would be much different. My step mother had bought cloth diapers and rubber pants big enough to fit me. The rubber pants were actually plastic baby pants, but my step mother and dad called them rubber pants. She pinned me into a double diaper,but I was sure the baby pants would be too small for a 7 year old boy. Right? Wrong! She said that she had to get size toddler large or super in order to fit me properly. And they went on up over my diapers with a perfect fit. I was crushed and cried for her to take them off of me, promising not to wet any more. A new problem now emerged. My pants wouldn't fit over the bulky diapers and baby pants. So we left for Maine, me in the back seat sobbing in my diapers and plastic (rubber) baby pants. They did give me a sheet to cover myself with, but I was still selfconscious about being diapered. I covered myself and sobbed myself to sleep. When I awoke, the sheet had fallen off of me and we were at a gas stop. The gas attendant was looking in at me while pumping gas. The windows were down and I heard him remark that he thought I was kind of old to be in diapers.
When we arrived at my grand parents farm, my step mother just had to show grammy my new travel clothes, meaning my diapers and plastic baby pants. Grammy offered no mercy, calling grandpa to come over to see me in my diapers and rubber panties, as she called them. Gramp just told her to "leave the kid alone". I grew close to grandpa, partially be cause of this. He was my only friend in my shame. I still had to wear my diapers and plastic baby pants on the return trip, but grandpa made sure I had pants to wear that fit over my diapers before we left for the return trip.
My ability to hold my urine improved with age and eventually my step mother couldn't find plastic baby pants that would fit me. So I was diapered for a trip, but Dad compromised and added a stop or two on the trip. My step mother would routinely check to see how wet I was at these stops, and change me in need be. Near the end, I found that I kind of liked the feeling of being diapered and put in plastic baby pants because I seemed to get more attention from my step mother and grammy. Does that make sense to you? In retrospect, I think they needed a baby to pamper once again. And eventually, I kind of liked it in a way....