All My Mother's Rules

Chapter 8: Just My Secret

After several moments of silence, I turned, at last, to face myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the closet door. My plain, pale-blue t-shirt hung down to my waist, fully exposing the now-sagging pull-up. I could feel how much heavier it had become. I was a sorry sight. I stood still, not moving a muscle, continuing to stare back at my reflection, which now felt better than looking down directly at the pull-up itself, as if doing so provided some distance from what had happened.

What have I done? I'd just peed myself. Like, on purpose. And into a pull-up no less. I felt so gross and disgusting. I was fourteen. What the hell was wrong with me? There could be no turning back at this point. I'd already committed myself. I couldn't let my wetting accidents be exposed, and this was the only way I could think of to hide them.

At last, I lowered my eyes and peeked down at floor. Complete dry. The idea had worked at least. The puddle of urine that should have resulted from peeing myself had instead been absorbed by the pull-up. That was all that mattered right now. At least I knew that if I were to have an accident in public, I would be able to escape without anyone noticing it.

The feel of the urine-soaked pull-up against my skin was somehow even more uncomfortable than how I had felt when I had wet my bed last night. I tossed the soaked pull-up in the diaper disposal bin and cleaned myself up with some of Emilia's wipes. I could hear the sound of Mom bathing Emilia coming from the bathroom. The splashes let me know that I still had time to get myself cleaned up.

My panties and jeans lay in a pile on the floor. I could still go back to them. It would only take a few seconds to put them on. I could pretend this hadn't happened. Pretend that everything was OK. Pretend that I was not a fourteen-year-old girl who somehow keeps on peeing herself. But I couldn't. Unless this issue stopped as suddenly as it started, I eventually was going to have more accidents. And one those one of those accidents was bound to happen when I was around other people. What then? The sleepover would definitely be a no go. And who at school would want to be friends with someone who pees herself? And Mom? I didn't want to think about what she would do.

Sometimes you must do the thing you don't want to do because you realize that the alternative is even worse.

I rubbed a just tiny amount of baby powder around my legs. I knew I needed to avoid any chaffing, but I didn't want to go around smelling like a baby, either. I slipped a fresh pull-up on – another Ariel. At least it looked cute on me. I pulled my panties over the pull-up. I didn't need the panties, and they didn't do much to conceal the pull-up, but I felt better wearing them. I couldn't bring myself to part with that vestige of being grown up.

That lead to a wry thought about one of Mom's rules for Emilia – just keep your pull-ups dry for seven days and you can wear panties. I hope my luck with that was better than Emilia's had been.

What to wear to bed? I may as well get my pajamas on now while I have the privacy to change by myself. I didn't want to risk wearing the shorts I often used at night. They didn't go up very high on my waist and I was worried they might accidentally expose the pull-up if I were to lean over.

Instead, I opted for a pair of pajama pants and a nightgown that nearly came down to my knees. I gave myself a thorough look-over in the mirror. There was no way anyone could tell that I had a pull-up on. If I listened extremely closely, I could pick up the slightest of rustling sounds while I walked, but I was certain no one would hear, or, if they did, connect the dots to realize I was wearing a pull-up.

With the bath sounding like it was over, I slipped off to the living room so that Mom could have the room to herself to get Emilia ready for bed. Even though no one was watching me, I tugged at my pajamas and adjusted them all the way down the hallway, worried that they might somehow expose the pull-up.