The Greatest Milestone

Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a teenager's transition from diapers to pull-ups is the greatest milestone in her life.

This milestone usually happens a few years after we hit puberty. For most of us, that means high school, or even middle school if you're really lucky.

Speaking of luck, it's always the popular girls who toilet train first. Not only is that downright unfair, but it defies all reason. I mean, why would the girls who are already the prettiest and most well-liked suddenly get the gift of bladder control? A gift, mind you, that makes them more attractive and popular than they already are.

I still remember the day one my my classmates graduated to pull-ups. It was homeroom on the first day of seventh grade, and Amber Postma raised her hand from the middle row.

Mrs. Gibson stopped talking and glanced in her direction. "Question, Amber?"

Amber cleared her throat and annunciated each word as she spoke. "May I use the bathroom, please?"

A brief silence followed, but there was no mistaking her words or the smugness in her voice. She hadn't asked to go get changed. She'd asked to use the bathroom.

"Sure," Mrs. Gibson said, "just let me get the hall pass."

Clearly, our teacher was the only person in the room who didn't let this revelation shock her. In hindsight, I can see why. She'd been a seventh grade teacher for ten years, so she must have seen hundreds of students pass this same milestone by now.

As for the rest of us, this was all new territory. Sure, I remember my sister Emily toilet training when she was about fourteen, but I'd only been ten back then. To me, using the bathroom had been this vague and mysterious thing. Like driving a car, or having my first kiss. I knew I'd develop the muscle strength to do it someday, but I hadn't worried about it back then.

Amber rose from her chair, slow and deliberate. Long waves of blonde hair fell around her shoulders, and she stretched her arms above her head like a cat. This movement lifted the hem of her tank-top and revealed the pink pull-up sticking out from her denim shorts. It was a Victoria's Secret pull-up. The sort of pull-up you might expect to see on high school seniors, paired with a lacy pushup bra. The sort of pull-up that offered basically no protection against a number two, and would probably leak under more than a single wetting. The sort of pull-up you wore "just in case", but never expected to actually need.

The message was clear. Not only had Amber toilet trained over the summer, she had complete confidence in her bladder and bowel control. She strutted down the aisle as if she were going to accept an award. If this were a movie, her walk would have been in slow motion, and she would have smirked into the camera.

More than a few of the boys turned their heads to watch her leave. The girls watched her too, not bothering to hide their expressions. Some were jealous, but most gazed at her in awe and wide-eyed wonder.

I guess you could say I was one of those girls.

That was four years ago now. By the end of seventh grade, only about ten percent of my class was out of diapers. By the end of our freshman year, a full half of us were in pull-ups.

I don't know the exact numbers in my junior year, but I would guess it's well over 99%.

And this is why I hung my head low as I opened the doors to the girl's diaper changing room. It was the first day of 11th grade, but unlike Amber Postma's walk down the runway, mine was a walk of shame.

Several bright fluorescent lights flickered above the white tile floor. The room smelled like sanitizer, powder, and air freshener. Beneath those scents lingered some of the less pleasant aromas you might expect in a room like this.