As I sit in my dad’s car, my lower stomach gives yet another jolt. I shift in my seat uncomfortably, hoping that my dad doesn’t notice. But it didn’t have to be this way.
I’m serving my time in the Army. It is a rite of passage for Singaporean sons, giving up two years of their time to serve/defend their nation yada yada.. And we have to stay in our camps for the working week. Five out of seven days without seeing my laptop (and my bed!) You can already guess what I am going to touch on.
I spend 5 out of 7 days outside the house. My diapers are inside the house. And I am about 42.195 km away, on the opposite side of the island holed up within the SAF Armour Training Centre. This poses two major problems.
Firstly, I can’t use the diapers. I have to share my room with about 20 other guys, and wearing a diaper is simply not an option. No need to further elaborate this.
The other big headache, is the constant nagging fear that the diapers (that are about 42.195km away), will be discovered by the parents. Oh, this is the biggest worry that I have whenever I store diapers at home (which is very rare these days).
I’ve been caught hiding diapers. Several times. So my parents will know the signs when they see it. It takes just one Freudian slip, or a careless pack of wet tissues lying around, and there goes the deck of cards – into the dustbin. Just the very thought of my dad saying those two words (translated: you’ve started again), sends shivers down my spine. For my folks have made it their business to make sure that I do my business the correct way. (Notice I didn’t put quotation marks around correct.)
So, what do I do about the numb nagging sensation at the bottom of my stomach? Empty it into the filthy camp squatting toilet bowl, or hold it until I’m home diapered, and squatting? This week, I had the luxury of choosing the latter. And here’s the picture of the result.