AB/DL Truths: Debunking the Shocking Myths You Need to Know

For years, I have struggled with this label. But your writing and countless other articles I have read have pushed me into a comfortable zone of self-acceptance. Before we go any further, I must tell you that I am blind, having been born three months premature in 1977. Also, this is quite lengthy, and I hope you can please find time to read it.

I want to tell you what led me to become an ABDL. I remember my toddlerhood in diapers. I was potty trained around three years of age. I wore the classic 1979-1980 Luvs all white diapers with a smooth plastic backing. I have always enjoyed the feel of such diapers.

In the fall of 1984, when I was little over 6.5 years of age, I was hospitalized with a severe bowel impaction. It was the size of a baseball, and I had to take meds from both ends to get things cleared out. When I was discharged from the hospital, I had a prescription for a hodgepodge of harsh chemical stimulants, which I had to take daily. Back then, the doctors didn’t know what they know now, and they kept telling my mother to continue giving me these meds even though it clearly stated on the bottles that prolonged use could be harmful. Below is the list of meds I was taking starting in fall of 1984 and ending when Mom weened me off of them in 1992:

Colace stool softeners – two pills three times daily
Milk of Magnesia or Haley’s M.O. – two tablespoons before bed every night
1 eight-ounce glass of Metamucil nightly after the two tablespoons of M.O. or MOM.

By the time I was weaned off of this stuff, the damage was done. The sensitive nerve endings in my colon and rectum were damaged, and I have bowel motility issues and occasional flare-ups of severe diarrhea. High school was brutal, and I was bullied a lot because of my gut issues. I suffered in private, and I longed for my toddlerhood. I started experimenting with thick pads of toilet paper in my underwear in the privacy of our own bathroom, and whenever I knew I was going to have a regular firm, waxy bowel movement, I would do so in this makeshift diaper because it was the very thing I enjoyed as a two-year-old.

Time passed and life moved on. Before I knew it, I was a young man living by myself in a small one-bedroom apartment. I had a cleaning aid, who came every other week and helped me with my laundry and light house cleaning. One day, she had come across a badly stained pair of underwear from a past diarrhea flare-up. “What do you want me to do with these,” she asked, and I told her to pitch them.

I was embarrassed, and that was the day I made the decision to talk to my P.A. She was a nice woman named Christy, and she made me feel at home. In an exam room, we talked, and she told me of the various options. One was going on medication. But that was clearly out of the question being that it was medication that landed me in this situation. The other was a colostomy, and I have researched that. The risks are too high for me. Not only that, but I wouldn’t be able to live independently as a blind individual due to certain aspects of the ostomy itself. So we both decided that diapers were the best option.

Over the years, I have tried various brands. Medicaid sucks, and they only paid for those generic brands, whose cores would bunch up or the lining sometimes would separate, leading to the fluff falling out. Finally, I found InControl Diapers, and I am glad I did. Not only do they have plastic-backed diapers, but also, they have discrete plain white snap-crotch onesie-style t-shirts I can wear over the diapers in public to keep things discrete beneath my pants.

The Rearz Inspire are my go-to adult diaper because they have the smooth plastic I love, the soft, cushy inner lining and super-absorbent polymer core, and internal leg gathers that hold wonderfully along with an elastic waistband.

Today, I do what I refer to as babying, and I don’t want to involve anyone else at all. This is how I cope in the privacy of my bedroom or the bathroom, and it doesn’t involve soiled diapers always, but various things. I will sometimes wear just a diaper or the onesie over the diaper while listening to ASMR highway travel because I remember traveling with my mom, big brother, and sister when I was two years old. I even have recordings of my now deceased mother talking with other family members during one of our get-togethers. I will put these files on and just reminisce of days long since past. This is what solo babying does for me. I am taken back to the time pre-bowel impaction, pre-political termoil, pre-Iran war, when my world was a perfect and wonderful place and where I could live shamelessly without judgement or ridicule.

I hope I didn’t bore you at all. But your article is an inspiration. I am proud to call myself an adult baby. Once again, many thanks.