The Greatest Milestone

Chapter 7

The following Monday, I still couldn't stop thinking about my date with Nathan. We didn't kiss at the end, but that was okay with me. Despite my best attempts to clean up, I still wasn't ready to be that close to a boy. I'd rather save my first kiss for a day when I felt pretty and confident, without having to worry about whether or not my skirt smelled like pee.

Fortunately, there would be plenty of chances for that in the future. You see, Nathan asked me on a second date, and we have plans to go out to dinner tonight.

And yes, I learned my lesson about wearing pull-ups in public. I'm absolutely never doing that again. Not until I'm toilet trained I mean, which will hopefully be sometime this year.

 The only problem was... I'd told Nathan that I wear pull-ups. As far as he knew, I was just like every other high school junior. Sure, I'd leaked a little on the mini-golf course, but that could be explained with nerves, right? I mean, who isn't prone to accidents in the presence of a cute boy or girl?

But what if Nathan and I end up seeing each other more? What if he put his hands around my waist and felt something he didn't expect? How would I explain that?

"We're doing push-ups, Claire," the gym teacher hollered from across the room. "Not planks."

Oh, right. I gritted my teeth and lowered myself down.

Push-ups were my least favorite exercise, second only to chin-ups. Well, unless jogging counted. I always end up sweating in the diaper area, and that doesn't mix well with plastic backed diapers. I always tell myself I'm going to buy some cloth-backed ones to prevent chafing. But of course, that idea only comes to me when I'm in the middle of gym class. 

My favorite exercise is swimming. Now, this might surprise you at first. Most swim-suits are revealing, right? And we all know how I feel about skimpy clothes. But here's the thing: my school has a rule that all students need to wear school-approved swim diapers in the pool. It doesn't matter how good your bladder and bowel control are, the rule still applies to you.

Apparently, this rule exists for health reasons. When my parents were younger, swim diapers weren't mandatory beyond middle school, but too many high school kids went swimming without any protection. A few of them had noticeable accidents, and that ruined it for everyone.

I know I'm not complaining about the rule though. For those forty-five minutes, it's like we're all equal. For that brief time, even Amber Postma and I wear the same kind of protection.

"Time for squats," Mr. Jenkins announced. 

Oh joy. I pushed myself up and got into position. When I did, I felt some pressure down below. Fortunately, I'd had my morning coffee today so I should be all clear down there.

When I lowered myself down, however, my body disagreed. I emptied my bowels in less time than it took to blink.

Oh, crap. 

Literally. 

Two accidents like this in one week? This only happened when I ate too much restaurant food. Don't ask me what kind—I've never been able to figure it out. 

Either way, squats are officially my least-favorite exercise of all time.

The accident wasn't that big, but number two's weren't like wetting. You couldn't just sit around waiting until your diaper reached its capacity. If you did, someone would notice. 

Mr. Jenkins had his back to me, but I got ready to raise my hand just as soon as he turned around. That was my only chance to get out of here with my dignity.