alex_bridges
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Coming Out
🕑 Added 2021-05-01 17:25:51 +0000 UTCAll characters are 18 or older. This story is non-sexual.
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Such butterflies in my stomach. I just ... But I had to do this. I just had to. Even if those butterflies turned into angry hummingbirds. But I had to. No one else was home but Mom, so I went down to the kitchen where she was making food for the party.
“Um, Mom, can I talk to you?” She dabbed the sauce she was making with her finger and licked it off.
“Mmm. Perfect. What do you wanna talk about, sweetie?”
A big part of me, maybe most of me, wished she had said, ‘Can it wait?’ But she didn’t. And those butterflies were definitely angry hummingbirds then. I felt almost dizzy and sat down. Mom had left her glass on the table, and I took a big drink. She sat down next to me.
“Are you okay,” she asked.
“Mhmm,” I said, trying to sound more okay than I felt.
“I’m glad to have you home. I missed you when you were at college.”
“I missed home.”
“So what do you want to talk to me about?”
“Well, um, it’s personal, first. I’m not even sure I should tell you.”
“I know you’re the big girl on campus, rising sophomore,” she chuckled, “but I’m still your mom. You can tell me things.” Hardly the big girl on campus, but I am the first in my family to go to college. I’d been home for the summer for two days. I didn’t know what I’d do, but I knew I couldn’t keep my secret forever. It was hard enough trying to hide the pants I wet when I when I forgot I wasn’t wearing, and I only had to hide them long enough to sneak them into the washer.
Here goes.“I ... I don’t wear underwear anymore.” I didn’t see her reaction because I was looking at the table. “I wear diapers.”
It wasn’t a deafening silence. Or an awkward silence. Just that terrible vacuum where words should go, and you don’t know what’s worse - the silence when you don’t know what they’re thinking but assume the worst, or when they start talking again and maybe confirm the worst. I sat there wanting to fall through the floor or start crying or run away.
“Honey,” Mom finally said, “did you go to student health?”
“No. I ...”
“We’ll make an appointment for you with my gynecologist. She’ll probably refer you to a urologist, and they’ll know what to do.” She pulled out her phone.
“Mom ... it’s not like that. I ... just like to wear them.” And I thought the first silence was long. “Please don’t think I’m crazy or gross,” I pleaded when an hour but really just twenty seconds had passed. I was on the verge of tears.
“I don’t, sweetie. I don’t think you’re crazy, and certainly not that you’re gross. Can I, um, ask a few questions? And you don’t have to answer them if you don’t want to.”
I nodded and took another drink from her glass. She got up, made another at the sink, and sat back down.
“Are you ... wearing one right now?”
I still couldn’t look at her. I looked at the table and choked out a “Mhmm.”
“Stand up for me.”
That made me look up, bug-eyed. “Why?”
“Because I wanna see. C’mon. I won’t bite.” I stood up, and she reached over and put her hands on my hips. I wanted to jump away but couldn’t. I felt frozen. She twisted me left and right and all the way around slowly.
A ball of emotion rose in my throat. “Mom,” I whimpered.
“Sit,” she said. “I’d never have guessed. I can sort of see it now, but if you hadn’t told me ...”
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad? They’re just a different kind of underwear.”
“O, Mom,” I cried and got out of my chair and into her lap for the first time in years. I needed a hug, and who better to hug than your mom? “Thank you.”
She hugged me back and gave me a kiss on my hair. “You’re different, that’s all. And I love everything about you; every single thing. I’m happy if you’re happy. That’s all a good mom wants is for her babies to be happy.”
Well, I did some crying on her shoulder. Not much; I don’t really cry. I’m not the crying type, mostly. I got off her lap and sat back down in my chair. She handed me a napkin to dab my eyes.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Since September,” I said and blew my nose. “Like a week after you dropped me off.”
“So you’ve probably wanted to do this for ...”
“Forever. As long as I can remember.” I was so relieved I just started letting secrets come out. “I did sometimes before, but never real diapers. Not ones that fit me well. I didn’t have a credit card to order them, and they’re expensive. I saved all my money from last summer.”
“I’ll buy them for you.”
Wait, what?“You ... really?” I didn’t expect that.
“Diapers are your underwear now. I buy your other clothes, or at least give you money to get what you need.”
“You don’t have to ... thank you. I’m running out. I wasn’t sure what I’d do.”
“You could’ve gone back to panties until your first paycheck, but no worries. I’m happy to if it makes you happy.”
“About my job ... I didn’t accept their offer,” I confessed.
“Why not? I thought you liked that job.”
“I do, but I can’t lifeguard in a diaper.”
Mom got quiet again for a second. “So this is ... this is really all the time, huh?”
“Yeah. That’s why I told you. I don’t think I can hide it all summer, living in the house.” And going back to underwear, I’d decided, wasn’t an option either. I wear diapers. I waited most of my life to be able to say that, and I’m not taking it back. Ever.
“No, you probably couldn’t hide it all summer,” Mom said. “Though you have so far.”
“I wore panties the last two days, until today. I ...”
“What?”
“I forgot I wasn’t wearing a diaper and I ... had an accident.”
“O. O my. Do you have lots of accidents,” she asked.
“No. Sort of. I’m not sure. I’m just ... I wear diapers now, so I don’t hold it anymore. Sometimes it just happens without me meaning to, or maybe I mean to but forget I did it. I’m not sure.”
“So you use them. You don’t just wear them.”
I turned crimson, and I thought I couldn’t blush any harder since I came downstairs. “Mhmm.”
“For everything?”
“Not for everything ... not all of the time.”
“But sometimes you ...” She trailed off.
“Sometimes. I won’t do it here, if you don’t want me to.”
“Well,” Mom said. She looked at the table, like me, and then looked back at me, and her expression seemed to soften. “A poopy diaper isn’t a big deal. You do what feels right.”
O my god does it feel right. It feels so right. The only reason I don’t all the time is because it’s so hard to clean up by yourself. “Okay,” was all I said.
“How did you hide it from Jessica,” Mom asked. She was my roommate.
“Not well,” I said with a chuckle. “She caught me in one the very next day.”
“Was she nice about it?”
“Mhmm. I lied. I told her I needed them.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes at the memory. “She is so the mom of the friend group.”
“How so?”
“Just like, if we were in a hurry to go somewhere, she’d change me. She’d check my diaper and sometimes carry my diaper bag. She even kept a change of clothes for me in her car.” I was too wrapped up in that pleasant memory to remember I didn’t need to tell Mom everything.
“I see,” Mom said. “And you liked that? Her treating you like that?”
“Sometimes.”
“Honey, were you and her dating?”
“What? No. She was just ... being helpful. She isn’t ... I mean I am, but she isn’t ...” Well, then I was confused. “She might be.” Which would be kinda awesome. I developed a crush the moment she didn’t make fun of me for being in diapers.
“Well,” Mom said and chuckled again, “anyway, I don’t mind helping out with those things. One more diaper to change isn’t such a big deal.”
“Um ... okay. I’m not asking you to do that.”
“I know, sweetie, but you do dawdle sometimes, and if changing your diaper when we’re trying to get out of the house helps, then that’s what I’m gonna do if you’re okay with it. You have a habit of making us late,” she said kindly. I did, and it drove my parents to distraction sometimes.
“Okay ... I really just ... I told you because I thought you could help me hide it.”
“We can do that. But you don’t have to.”
“Um,” I chuckled, “I think I kinda do.”
“Why? I accepted it.”
“But you’re my mom.”
“And your dad is your dad, and your brothers and sisters look up to you. I can help you hide it, or I can help you tell them. And we don’t have to tell them the truth if you don’t want to either.”
“You’re okay with me lying?” My parents were not okay with lying. So not okay with it.
“You’re an adult now. Sometimes adults need to lie.”
“What would you do?”
“You mean if I was you? Well, it’s really not up to me, but I’d tell the truth. Isn’t that so much easier than having to keep up a lie? And much easier than trying to hide it. I mean, honey, if you’re gonna make poopy diapers I don’t think you’re gonna hide it so well.”
“I don’t ... not every day.”
“I promise everyone will accept you. We’re a family. And all your family will accept it. Your aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents.”
“Everybody has to know,” I asked.
“We do spend an awful lot of time with them. Do your friends know? Besides Jessica, I mean.”
“No.”
“Up to you, but I’d tell them, too. I can’t really tell you’re wearing a diaper under your jeans, but it’s summer. I don’t think the shorts you wear will hide them so well.”
Those were all good points. Hiding it is hard, tiring, and hardly foolproof. Lying to everyone I know ... it’s not that I am above lying, at least on this, but if I lied then everyone would be trying to help me. ‘What about this exercise, and have you tried this diet, and I know this doctor who ...’ I didn’t mind skipping all that.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Mom asked.
“I’ll tell everyone, and I’ll tell the truth.”
“And I promise everyone will accept you for who you are. Do you know how I know?”
“How?”
“Mom superpower. We just know things like this.”
I felt myself getting teary again. “Thank you. Really. For loving me for who I am.” Cheesy, but I just had to say it.
We both stood up and enjoyed a good, long hug. It startled me when mom squeezed my butt, but I didn’t stop hugging her. We stepped back, and Mom her hands on my shoulders.
Smiling and looking kind of bright eyed, like she was trying to be extra nice and not intimidating, she asked, “Can I see?”
“I ... guess.”
Her hands got to the button on my pants before mine. I let her unbutton and unzip my jeans. She pulled them down to just below my diaper. I felt small, not in a bad way, but I felt very much like her child and not her adult daughter. And that was before she put her hand on it and gave my diaper a squeeze.
“They’re cute. You’ll have to show me where you get them,” she said as she raised my pants and re-buttoned them. “And wet. You should go change before we have to leave.”
“I was thinking of not going.”
“But it’s the start of summer. You always go to your uncle’s barbecue. Everyone wants to ask you about school, and you’re the oldest cousin. All the little ones are always so excited to play with you. And besides, we can just tell people and get it out of the way.”
“How will we tell them?”
“Well, your father is going to be home with your brothers and sisters soon. We can sit down in the living room when they do and just tell them. And at the party, we don’t have to tell anyone unless they see or ask. I have a feeling they will, and I’ll just discreetly tell them you wear diapers now, unless you want to.”
“No, I really don’t.”
“So I’ll do it. You may get some questions from your cousins.”
“Yeah...”
“Just tell them sometimes big girls wear diapers. They look up to you.”
“I guess.”
“I know. Mom superpower.” She turned off the burner on the stove, stirring the sauce once more. “Taste.” She held the spoon out for me, and I tasted it. As good as it always is. Felt good to be home, though I did miss Jessica.
“And,” Mom said, “you can talk to your aunt about a job at her daycare. You’re so good with the little ones, and I’m sure no one will mind one more diaper there.”
“That’s true. I guess that would be a good place for me.”
“Why don’t you go change so we can leave on time?”
“I’ll just go in this.”
“It’s too hot for that, and anyway, you need a fresh diapee.”
I’m sorry, a what? “They can last a while. It’s not that wet.”
“Honey,” she said and clicked her tongue, “c’mon,” she said and took me by the hand. “You shouldn’t leave the house in a wet diaper. You can show me your things, and I’ll get you changed. And I want to see your diaper bag and make sure it has a change of clothes, too. I can keep some diapers for you in your brother’s diaper bag, but I can’t be carrying around a change of pants for both of you.”
“Mom?”
“Mhmm?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I love you any way you wanna be, and it makes me very happy to help you be that person.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, and so does your whole family. Everyone will accept you’re back in diapers. I promise.”
And it turns out moms do know these things.
