Growing Up: The Cottage - Part VIII

Not the actual diaper bag I bought when I was 17... but you get the idea... hehe.

To read the entire "Growing Up: The Cottage" series, and other blog entries I've written about growing up, click here.

I've been writing about my family's summer cottage, a small one-bedroom shack-like structure smack-dab on a lake in upstate New York. My grandfather built it decades before I was even born, and it became a special part of the lives of my grandparents, parents, andso many family members and friends. I recognized it's specialness at a very young age. It became a part of most of my childhood memories worth remembering, and remains just as special today. It's the basis for my love of the water; if you know me you know what I'm talking about. Most of all, it gave me a place to experiment with my toddler alter-ego. I'm writing about some of those experiences here...

The Cottage: Cwis Goes to Open Sea

I'll never forget the moment I saw them.

It was a commercial on television. It was a powerful moment. As weird as it sounds, the product connected with me. It was like subliminal messaging on the part of the marketers was speaking to me from behind the TV screen. "Cwis... buy us... you have to have us."

I don't usually connect with diaper commercials. The commercials for kids' diapers feature toddlers or infants, and connecting feels too close to a brush with pedophilia. And adult diapers? They're for people who are... old.

Eww.

But I watched the TV commercial for the new Huggies Pinstripe Diapers the summer I was 17 and I was... well, hooked.

I think it was that the toddler in the commercial was wearing a business suit - featuring a pinstripe diaper.

The diaper was supposed to look businesslike.

I could picture some diaper designer running out of ideas and saying... I know! Let's make one that's fit for the boardroom!

It was part of the new "Huggies for Him" and "Huggies for Her" kick, where they made different diapers for boys and girls, putting the padding wherever the pee went. Well, for whatever reason, for boys they came out with their business line. The commercial of the toddler holding a laser pointer while giving a presentation to a boardroom full of other businessbabies... priceless.

In my mind I wasn't watching a toddler on television. I was watching me. I envisioned myself in that suit, wearing that pinstripe diaper, giving a presentation. And while the likelihood of that actually happening in real life may be slim... it was the first time I felt a real connection to a diaper commercial. Or to a specific diapers. The Huggies marketers had earned their pay; I had to have this diaper.

The diaper was white with blue pinstripes from top to bottom.

It was a pretty unique looking diaper. It was supposed to look like a business suit, but it resembled more of a Yankees uniform, white with navy blue. It looks so cute... so babyish. I decided to forgo my usual order of Attends and scoop up some Pinstripes for my next cottage visit.

My job as a lifeguard gave me Mondays and Tuesdays off, and I think I saw that commercial on a Wednesday morning before work. I had to wait the whole damn week to get my Huggies fix. And that week seemed lonnnng.

And, then, Monday morning was upon me.

I walked into the drugstore on a mission. I went past the incontinence aisle straight to the baby products aisle... and, nothing.

WTF?

They had every kind of diaper except the ones I wanted.

Had the Huggies people started advertising a diaper before they distributed it? Or was it such an adorable diaper that everyone else had to have a bag, too? Could it have sold out in the week since I'd seen the commercial? Had they been discontinued? Had I missed my chance to buy the disposable diaper of my dreams??

Was I just getting carried away?

I nearly bought a bag of Depends, I was so depressed. Instead I walked back out to my car, determined to try one more store before I gave up. I drove across the parking lot to the grocery store and went in. And lo and behold... not only did they have the pinstripe diapers... they had them... on... DISPLAY!!!

I walked up and grabbed a bag, excited. I turned around and strode to the cash registers. I was 17 years old, still in that phase of I-hope-nobody-sees-me-I'd-be-so-humiliated that we all remember (and, some of us, still know). At that moment, though, it could've been my own Mom and Dad in line in front of me. I would've pulled a pinstriped Huggie out of the bag, hopped up on the conveyor belt, pulled down my pants, stuck my feet in the air, and said "Tape it on me..."

That's how excited I was. These diapers had spoken to me.

It was like... I was meant to be the kid in that commercial: adult (i.e. the boardroom) but toddler (i.e. pinstriped diaper). It was... perfect.

I paid, got in my car, and sped down the Thruway, to the cottage.

Have you ever tried to put on a diaper that's just a little too tight?

It's one of the most frustrating feelings in the world.

I'd bought the XL size of the diaper that day. I forget how sizes were then, but they weren't like they are now... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, etc.; they were like crawler... walker... or something like that. I think I chose 'jogger'. Whatever it was, I got the biggest size they had, totally understanding it was a gamble: I might be stuck with a bag of diapers I couldn't use.

Fuck it... I figured if I couldn't wear them, I'd just lay them out on my pillow and rest my head on them as I went to sleep. Something, lol. I loved this diaper. And I was hoooooping it'd be a fit.

It wasn't.

I'd pulled them out of the bag, one by one, and set them in a stack on the couch. I sniffed in the aroma of fresh baby diaper... and I kind of handled them, feeling the material. It had been a while since I'd worn a baby diaper, since I'd discovered Attends, and they felt much different. Much more... babyish? I was loving it.

But there was still that size issue.

Back then I was pretty fit. A competitive swimmer since I was a little kid, I did two practices a day six days a week, plus lifeguarded. I could stuff my little ass into a Speedo no problem... I was hoping I'd be able to do the same with a Huggie.

I knew almost immediately upon seeing the diaper that it would be a stretch. So that's exactly what I did: I stretttttttched that diaper out, gently but firmly, as much as I could.

When it was expanded to the best of my ability I got undressed and held the diaper under my ass, laying down on it on the couch. I stretttttched the tape on the right side... no problem. Then I went for the tape on the left side...

...problem.

It almost fit. But it didn't. I realized I'd taped the right side pretty tight. Maybe I could stretch the left side? Stretttttch... pfffffffffft! The tape broke off in my hand, and I was left wearing a disabled diaper that could never be used.

I don't know about you but, when I destroy a perfectly good diaper, part of me gets sad. And mad, of course. And I was pissed. I'd wrecked a pinstripe diaper! It would never be used by anyone, ever, because of me. I was irritated. In the boardroom that's called a 'write-off'... you just chalk up your losses and move on. So I wrote that diaper off, then picked up the next one and began stretching it out. Soon it, too, was under my bottom, and I was taping. And wouldn't you know... same damn thing. Cept this time, the other side tape wouldn't come all the way over. I was probably swearing as I undid the tape on the right side and attempted to make it a little looser. Refastenable tapes my ass... the tape lost it's stick and I was suddenly wearing yet a second loss.

Would the third time be the charm? I wasn't sure, and I was about ready to go digging in the trunk for a Depend. Still, I tried it... same stretch-out, same under-the-ass position, and then... voila! The tapes somehow fit! Excited I stood up, hoping to check out what Cwis in a baby diaper looked like. My diaper had other ideas and, suddenly and without warning, a tape popped. Bam! I was half-wearing a dope-ass diaper... and my face was red as hell! I had to try something else...

We'd recently done some painting at the cottage, and there was a roll of painter's tape left over. I grabbed the roll and peeled off two pieces of big, white tape. It wasn't very sticky, but it was all there was, and I hoped it would work. I grabbed diaper #4 and lay down. I held it up in the air over me, stretching it out, watching my reflection in the overhead window. Cute. Under my ass, fold up, tape tape, and then... painter's tape as a backup. And it worked. I stood up and walked over to the mirror, listening to the so-welcome sounds of crinkling, and checked myself out. Damn... even the painter's tape couldn't ruin it. Damn... dapper. That was one cute-ass diaper. I suddenly felt two years old, and I knew if I were faced with a choice between the executive suite and the car seat, it wouldn't be a tough choice for me at all.

I'd gotten up extra-early, and had gotten a jump on the day. Shopping, the car ride, and trial and error all done, it was still before 10 a.m. At the cottage the sun rose on the east side of the lake; the cottage sat underneath a cliff, and until the sun came overhead around 1 p.m. it would be brrrrr. I decided to seek some direct sunlight. Monday mornings the lake was pretty much deserted, the weekend warriors all but having gone home. Save for a few fisherman there would be no action on the water. I grabbed my shorts and a T, wrapped a few other diapers into it for no real reason at all, and walked out onto the dock. Sure enough, the water was deserted. It was time to go boating...

My grandfather had a rowboat he'd attached an outboard motor to, a boat my brother and I were free to take at will. It wouldn't seem like much to look at it, but the outboard was way too big for the boat and, as a result, the boat became a speedboat anytime you opened the throttle. Which was a good thing because, in addition the the thrill, it could also save your ass - the metal rowboat had rivets which had become lose and, if you stayed in one place for too long, water would slowly leak into the boat. Slowly, but if you were in the boat, a mile or two out, and it started to accumulate in the bottom of the rowboat, it didn't seem slow. I found it was best to keep it moving; the faster you went, the less water crept up into the basin.

I tossed my clothing and the diapers onto the middle seat and plopped my pinstriped behind on the rear bench. I pulled the rope and started the motor, and we were off. I knew I was taking a chance ripping around in just a diaper, but I figured it looked close enough to a Speedo, which anyone who knew me would've been used to seeing anyway. Besides, once I opened the throttle, it would just be a blur to anyone on shore anyway.

I sped up and down the shore. I was in heaven... Baby Cwis, in a pinstriped diaper, out on the water. Two things I loved, combined. Sure, it would've been cool to have a grownup driving the boat (hehe!), but I'd have to make due.

I was still about a half mile from the cottage when I felt it.

It started as a shudder. I looked down at the fuel tank and checked the gauge; still half-full. Or maybe it was half-empty, lol. Either way, I shouldn't be running out of gas...

Shudddddder...

Yet clearly something was happening. It was shuddering.

Chug, chug... chug, chug...

It began chugging, too, which - if you're an experienced rowmotorboater you know can't be good.

Chug, chug... shudder... chug, chug...

And, after about thirty seconds of shuddering and chugging, it wasn't shuddering or chugging anymore.

In fact, it wasn't doing anything anymore.

It had stalled.

I turned to the motor to begin investigating. I tried to pull the cord; nothing. I pulled the choke out and pushed it back in; nothing. I pulled the choke out and pushed it in while pulling the cord. Still, nothing.

I was... fucked.

The lake was fairly calm. But being such a large lake, I knew that currents and waves could pop up at anytime. I had to do something to get the boat back asap. But what?

There was one paddle in the boat. I tried propping myself up at the front and using that to propel me back, but it wasn't working and I was tiring quickly. Back to the motor... nothing.

I dove into the water, taking the tow line with me. I was a strong swimmer - the 500yd free was my event - and I was pretty sure I could swim the boat the entire half-mile. I was in a diaper, but there weren't any other boats around. I was certain I'd hear any coming up, so thought... low-risk, right?

After about ten minutes of swimming we'd only moved a few hundred feet. The boat began to feel heavier, and rope burns were beginning to irritate my hands, and I realized that I'd have to do something different. I climbed back into the boat, and was alarmed to see how quickly it was filling with water. WTF? The rivets must've gotten worse or something, because the boat was filled with six inches of water, and it was rising before my eyes.

Eek!

I located the milk jug we used as an emergency bailer and began scooping water and tossing it over the side of the boat. I was scooping fast, figuring if I could get it down a few inches it would be lighter and easier to tow; I'd just carry the fucking rope in my teeth or something.

While I scooped and tossed I marveled at my diaper. It had stayed on and remained intact. I was now looking at a bulging, soggy pinstriped diaper... it was kinda hot. Somehow the painter's tape had stuck. The diaper was saggy and heavy, but I was oblivious to it...

I was also oblivious to the sounds around me, and I barely heard the fishing boat puttering up from behind. The two elderly gentlemen fishing for trout were using a battery-powered outboard, the kind they make so quiet so the fish won't know there's a boat above that worm; the fish couldn't hear it, and I hand't either. Suddenly I panicked. I was in a diaper! And, not just any diaper... a pinstriped baby diaper! EEK!!!!

I plopped my ass down into the water and quickly slapped at the diapers spread across the seat; they flew into the water in between the middle bench and the front one. I then grabbed at my own diaper and tugged, pulling it off and wadding it up underneath the seat I was sitting on. I was naked now, and just as the men were upon me I somehow grabbed my shorts with a quickness. I had them on within seconds.

"I saw you in your pinstriped-diaper, and I told Cleve here, there's another young executive playing hookie for a day out on the water," the old man steering the boat said to me.

...

...

...

Just kidding! I wish...

"We saw you bailing, and thought we'd come over to see if we could help," the old man steering the boat said to me. My face must have been red, because he said "Don't be embarassed, son... happens to everyone."

The men scanned the boat, taking note of the water filling the bottom - and rising - and the one milk jug I was using for a bailer.

"Looks like you've got yourself a boat with a pool," the other man said with a drawl. "Lucky young fella... I didn't have a boat until I was 30, and a pool a few years after that!"

I could tell they were making fun of me, but their main motor was huge and I was certain they'd be able to tow me and my water-filled craft back to the dock, so I played along, laughing like I thought he was funny. The first man continued to scan the boat and then turned to me with a very serious look on his face.

"Son," he said, "you can't bail this boat out with diapers..."

The way he said diapers, with some sort of southern accent... it was almost like it was a three-syllable word. I wanted to laugh, but I could see he was serious. He must've taken me for some kind of white trash rube. I looked just as seriously back at him and said "Well, it seemed to be working... for a few minutes, anyway."

"Di-a-pers are absorbant, son, but... after a while they've taken all that they can take. And then their absorbant power is all spent. Kind of like your motor. They just... can't do any more." I couldn't tell if the old man was serious or kidding about the motor comment, but it was funny that he was lecturing me on the absorbancy power of diapers. I nodded along, and he pointed to the milk jug. "You oughtta just be using that..."

"Good idea, sir." I replied. I was having fun now. "Man, that's what I should've been using." The two looked at each other, and I could almost read their thoughts.

"Actually, since we're here now, I have an idea," the second man said. "Why don't the two of us just tow you and your boat to wherever you're going?"

I thanked them and climbed up into the front of the boat, tossing them a tow rope.

"As long as you don't mind if we continue fishing, that is..." the old man said. He pulled my boat toward his until they were touching and invited me aboard. His boat was nice, a brand new fishing boat with a cuddy cabin. I sat down on a comfortable leather bench - a contrast to the row boat's peeling wooden ones - and the second man handed me a bottle of beer. I didn't drink but I took a few sips to go along, and thought how lucky I was I hadn't brought my own bottle - or pacifier - into the boat with me today. OMG.

The old man powered up a little, letting the tow rope go taut. It was clear that they were in no rush, and they did indeed intend to continue to fish. So fish we did, puttering along slowly down the shore, my disabled dinghy trailing along behind. I was very eager to slap on my next Huggie and go back to being Little Cwis, but I didn't want to disrupt their day, so I quietly obliged, sipping my beer and joining in small talk.

About thirty minutes later the men had my boat attached to the dock and, with a wave, were puttering away, still fishing. As they drove off the second old man called out "When you're done with those diapers just throw them in the lake... that's what all of the yacht owners do, anyway!" It was nice to have his permission, but I'd already done that in the past, hehe. Still, I wondered what they thought a 17yo was doing with a bunch of diapers in the boat. Did they really think Huggies Pinstripe Diapers were a part of my emergency plan?

Minutes later I was back in a new Pinstripe, and back in Little Cwis mode. Albeit on dry land.

Well, dry for a little bit, at least... hehe...

I saw pinstripe diapers on Ebay last year, and even grabbed a picture of them, but I can't find it.

I Googled "pinstripe diapers" and found nothing.

But I don't think I'll ever see a diaper that gives me that punch-in-the-gut, excited-tingle feeling I got when I watched that toddler/executive on television and pictured me in his role.

I've worn a lot of diapers since, and nothing can even compare to how I felt that day...

Note: If anyone has any vintage Pinstripe diapers... email me!