Date: 09/6/99 11:06:21 PM
Name: Anonymous
Email:
Subject: A true story

This is a true story, and after talking it through with countless 
shrinks, I finally came to grips with it, and it has helped me to 
understand why I became an AB. To start with, my parents had 
problems, but I suppose tried their best to raise me. I was an 
only child and I my mother was so fond of telling me, it almost 
killed her to give birth to me. She was in her mid forties when 
she had me and back in the early seventies, that was almost 
unheard of. She was a large woman, I don't mean fat, although she 
wasn't thin. I mean she was over five feet ten, and even taller 
than my father, who was just over five six. My grandfather was 
actually less than five feet, who I unfortunately took after. I 
did finally make it to five two, so I suppose it could've been 
worse. I was always small, until I was thirteen, my mom used to 
pick me up while we were watching television and hold me on her 
lap like I was a little kid. If I squirmed or put up a fuss, she 
would always say "looks like someone didn't get enough sleep last 
night" and would put me to bed, so I just let her hold me. I 
always thought that was worse than the other stuff. She would 
constantly put me in the basket in the supermarket when we went 
shopping, the kids from school saw me on several occasions and 
those kids really let me have it at school. The only thing that 
really saved me was the fact that I was always really great in 
school and would help kids cheat on tests and correct their 
homework in the morning before they turned it in. Anyway, my mom 
would go down the diaper aisle and ask me what kind of diapers I 
wanted and then go into a long dialog about how cute all of them 
looked. To put this in perspective, I was only forty inches tall 
when I was eleven and weighed about thirty five pounds. Usually 
she would end up getting diapers with things like Mickey Mouse on 
them. She would make me wear them at night, even though I only wet 
the bed maybe once every other week. After dinner each night she 
would say "go get mommy a diaper" or just kinda show up with a 
diaper in one hand and the "bag" in the other that she kept all 
the diaper stuff in. She would grab me by the waist, force me down 
on my back and take of my pants and slap on a diaper and then she 
would lift me into a standing position and put my feet through the 
leg openings in the plastic pants and say "okay, pull them up the 
rest of the way" like I was a baby. She used to baby-sit for my 
cousin jimmy once in a while, he was three when I was eight. One 
day my mom was giving us a bath together. She took me out and put 
my diaper on, then she took Jimmy out and just put pajamas on him. 
I said it wasn't fair, and I was so humiliated that he got to 
dress like a "big boy" and I was stuck in a diaper. To make 
matters worse my mom thought it was cute to have Jimmy check my 
diaper to see if I had "stinkied it". The humiliations continued 
until I was twelve, when even she finally realized that I had to 
grow up. Looking back on it, I can't believe these things 
happened. Today it would be called abuse. Well, thanks for 
listening. Maybe I'll post more when I have some time.

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