I’m wearing a diaper. You know those diapers designed for old people who can’t hold their poop in? One of those. And to be honest, I don’t know how fond of it I am. For one, it’s not very flattering. It makes my butt look massive. Secondly, whenever I move it makes this crunching sound, like as if I’m hiding my own illicit stash of plastic bags inside my vagina. And to make things worse, it’s not even that comfortable. I have to waddle a bit when I walk. All in all I would have to say this diaper is a massive disappointment. I can only hope that by the time I’m old and incontinent the diaperologists of the world will have made advances in human-waste-absorboration-technology, because this is just downright unacceptable.
I’m wearing the diaper because I have my period. I got it earlier this afternoon while having a nice, peaceful nap on my boyfriend’s dad’s bed. I awoke to find the massive bloodstain on his immaculate, white satin sheets. Bad vibes. I then quickly and sneakily put the sheets into the washing machine, saying a little prayer to the universe along the way. Dear universe, please don’t let my period blood stain my boyfriend’s dad’s bed.
In high school I always had really mild periods. Unlike my friend Ashton, who literally bled all over anything and everything. From ninth grade onward everyone knew her as “that bitch with the heavy flow.” Her tag line was, “Wait… did I, like, get my period all over myself?” I swear her mother came into class at least once a month to bring her a new pair of clothes after she soaked hers in her own uterine lining. Just few months ago, her lung collapsed and she had to have surgery to fix it. She got her period in the middle of the procedure and bled all over the operating table. I keep reminding myself of these events to downplay the whole white satin sheet disaster. I’m not sure if it’s helping.
After searching the house unsuccessfully for tampons, I was contemplating whether to create a makeshift pad out of toilet paper, or to just shove a sock in my underwear, when my boyfriend walked in to find me distressed.
“I got my period all over everything and there are no tampons,” I said, frantically.
“Umm… I think we might have some old sanitary towels of my grandma’s,” he said, looking mildly disgusted. He returned five minutes later, his hands full of white cotton.
“This is not a sanitary towel,” I said, lifting the garment close to my face for inspection. “This is a diaper. I will not wear this.”
“Just try it,” he said. “Who knows? It might be sexy.” That is so fucked up, I thought. I swear, there is something infinitely creepy about this guy I call my boyfriend. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know him at all. Just the other day, while we were making out, he pulled away from me, looked deep into my eyes and said, “I would still love you if you were a boy.” I don’t know what that means exactly, but I have a funny feeling it has something to do with him wanting to stick his penis inside boys’ buttholes.
Either way, I had no other options, so I surrendered to the freak and am now wearing a pair of Maximum Dignity disposable underwear. God, am I feeling sexy or what? Oh, and keep this to yourselves, will you?