Spot Check!

My dad, till this day does not know about my current dips. I’ve written about his stance before, but I keep on bouncing back, sometimes underneath his nose.

Literally, cos his sense of smell is very good, while mine is nonexistent due to some illness many years ago.

So as this current academic year started in August, I began moving my stuff back into my hostel. I explained in my previous post that I took pains to plan the schedule and route just so that I could go get my diaper supply for the semester. That also meant that I could not get anyone to help me with moving in.

Unfortunately, I had left out one thing. My mini-fridge was in my dad’s office and in my rush last week I had to choose between either the fridge or the diapers. I chose the dips of course.

But my dad being my dad, decided to come deliver the fridge to me at the end of the first week! I tried to talk him out of it, said that I had some coupons for a startup moving company and stuff like that. But being the Asian Tiger Dad that he is he insisted on bringing it to me ‘for free’ and to help me carry it up the stairs.

My Dad was coming to my hostel. I had 1 hour to prepare.

This was the first time he was actually coming into my room. And knowing that he would definitely check out my cupboard I had the formidable task of hiding 6 packs of diapers.

I considered bagging and hiding them outside the window, where I had access to the roof. It was a very appealing idea but I was worried that monkeys would see a plastic bag and open them up, thinking there’s food inside. I stood there in my diaper for a while pondering, what if it rained etc.

I settled for hiding the 6 packs in the narrow gap between my desk and the wall beside the window. Took a bit of squeezing but I managed it. I covered it with other stuff, and hoped for the best. Placed some belongings at that end of the room just for good measure.

Pretty soon I was taking of my unused diaper, stuffing it into my backpack along with my laptop and homework, and was going to the gate to greet him.

We struggled to carry the fridge up, but we managed it. He surveyed my neighbours’ doorsteps before stepping in. Placing it in its place, he started the inspection. All went well, and as anticipated he checked the cupboard and my table cabinet.

Then he lunged forward towards the windows. I nearly had a heart attack.

But he merely looked out at the scenery for a few seconds, and stepped back – away from the diapers hidden in the gap. I’m pretty sure he might have smelled the (clean) diapers, but didn’t act on it.

– Selv



Singapore’s Mini Winter

The temperature on this tropical island rarely dips below 28, so it was a surprise when the mercury stayed in the 22 to 23 degree celsius range for 5 whole days last week. Anyway, this is a little story I wrote for this week’s post. Do let me know what you folks think!

“Temperature In Jurong West dips to 21.2 deg C in Sunday – @STcom”

Siti read that tweet again as she scrolled through her twitter feed. She slid out of her covers and got off her bed, taking off her FBTs to put on something a bit warmer.

“Where is that trek pants I kept in here,” Siti muttered to herself as she rummaged through her tiny hostel closet.

There were several pairs of jeans and leggings, but the cold was getting to her. It didn’t help that her NTU hostel was right beside a forest, and the mist was blanketing her block in earnest, making it feel more like 16 deg C.

She knelt down to examine her drawer, her diaper crinkling softly. She had decided to wear a plastic backed diaper as they tended to trap heat better, and since her roommate wasn’t in for the night it wouldn’t really be a problem, she had reckoned.

Her bladder then gave a jolt, and she sighed. She had been holding it in for quite a while because she didn’t want to waste a diaper, and neither did she want to leave her room to go to the toilet, in that chilly weather.

She stood up, stretched, and had barely put her pants on when she heard several footsteps outside her door. There were three loud knocks, followed by three voices calling out her name.

Siti froze, recognising her friends from her cca. She decided to keep quiet – maybe they might think she wasn’t in?

“We know you are in there, your Frozen slipper is out,” one of them said as the others giggled.

Siti clenched her fist, knowing she had no choice. They were in the dance team, and one of them stayed a couple of floors below her. Reluctantly, she walked over to her door and opened it.

A gust of chilly wind swept into her room as she opened the door, as she glanced at her friend Zahid.

“Hey, come join us, we are having a sleepover at my room tonight,” said Zahid, as he was flanked by three other girls and guys.

“Yea join us,”

“It’ll be fun!”

“We can go for our CCA meeting together in the morning!”

“No guys, I’m really tired, I need to sleep!”, Siti said quietly.

“Don’t worry la, we will keep you awake! Come, or we will carry you ah!”

Siti was afraid of this. She might have dared go with them of only she had been wearing a cloth-backed diaper, but now she was in a bind.

Now two girls were pulling her out of her room. Zahid had gotten her phone and keys, and now was locking her door. And now she was being marched down her corridor. She tried to make as much noise as she could with her slippers to mask the subtle crinkles just escaping from her trek pants.

Her bladder gave a jolt with every step she took, she knew she was going to cave in any moment now. She didn’t even drink much water, why did she need to pee? Oh, it was because of the chill spell. Zahid started to explain about how some monsoon surge caused by some Siberian chill was causing this weather.

All Siti knew was that she wished it would get warmer. Yes, a little bit warmer, little bit more, nice! Wait, why was her crotch getting warmer?

– Selv


Swimming in Schoolwork

A new school year has started and I’m continuing to exist in this superfluous train of lessons. It’s been a real struggle and I must admit I’m not coping with all. I still remain with the Photography society but I’ve decided it’s time to step down from the other cultural club.

I’ve been really busy these past 5 weeks, reason being I’ve been working part time for Deliveroo during the evenings. The whole month experience deserves a series of posts, which I’ll write separately as it has truly been an eye-opener for me.

But I’ve stopped working temporarily. I really cannot cope with my schoolwork anymore and I figured that I need the time to study. I still need the money. But as I don’t need it yet, work can wait.

Quitting the cultural club outright was a system shock for me. I left mainly because I knew I wouldn’t be able to cope with studies, work and a second CCA. But I new that if I stayed, they would squeeze me dry again. Which is fine since its part of your responsibilities. Except, I never really felt part of the gang. Of course I didn’t tell them  that but the incoming president must have sensed it.

But life can be cruel. Several members of this CCA attend the same Astronomy lecture as me and I, well, have friends now for that module. The president and the rest managed to convince me to remain part of one of their outreach groups – the Band Wing.

Which brought me to the doors of a music academy last week. To sign up for Flute lessons. To continue classes which I stopped 12 years ago. I am 24 now.

The trial session lasting 10 minutes was super awkward. I had to gatecrash another student’s lesson and borrow his flute. Holes appeared in my haven’t-played-for-12-years story when I could play the 7 notes with little trouble, but my new teacher didn’t really ask, and I don’t plan to tell him. Tell him that I played for a concert 6 months ago and was now an instrumentalist-to-be in an amateur band.


– Selv

The Traffic Offence – Short Story

Happy Fourth of July to my American friends! Here’s a short story I’ve written, something different from my usual posts.

“I need to buy more diapers tomorrow,” Annette thought to herself as she entered her room. It was just past nine at night, and she had just taken her shower. Closing the door, she knelt down towards her closet, disregarding her unravelling towel and the ominous rumble in her tummy.

She rummaged through her lower drawer, to retrieve a diaper for the night. The Tena Slip Super packaging was empty. The Abena AbriForm packaging was empty too. How about the Lille SupremFits? What, it was empty too?

Annette stood up, as the realisation dawned on her that she was out of diapers. She first sat on her bed, then lay down, realising that her mistake meant no diapers for the night. She bit her lip as she thought. It had been at least five years since she last wet the be so it wasn’t an issue, but the thought of having to poop on the toilet in the morning started to gnaw at her already upset tummy. She stood up.

Quickly, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a school t-shirt, and grabbed her keys. ‘I need my diapers tonight,’ she muttered to herself as she locked her room and descended the stairs of her university hostel.

She got onto her motorcycle, a Bajaj Pulsar, and kick-started the engine. It quickly roared to life. Soon, she was speeding out of the carpark and onto the Avenue. The track adjacent was full of joggers whom Annette noticed turned to look at her, as they always did when she zoomed past. But she ignored them and started thinking about where she could get her security padding at this hour.

She wanted to get her hands on some Tena Slips, but knew that the bigger pharmacies were likely to be closed. She settled on getting some Tena Values diapers. They were plastic-backed, but at least they held a decent amount of liquid. As she tore down the streets towards her destination, she was acutely aware of the worsening cramps in her stomach.

Quickly, Annette parked her bike. She clenched her stomach, and as she took off her helmet she tried to let out some gas to relieve the pressure, which was unexpectedly loud. But there wasn’t anyone nearby. She quickly walked over to the supermarket. It was nearly closing time, but she had made it in time. She walked slowly towards the diaper section, taking small detours, well aware that the weary staff were eyeing the last customer of the day.

She quickly bent down to compare the prices. Yes, the Tena Values were still more value-for-money than Certainty Diapers and the other house-brand diapers. So she quickly picked up an M sized pack, and, with her stomach now throbbing in earnest, limped towards the cashier.

The old lady at the counter raised an eyebrow at her purchase, but said nothing. Annette felt herself freezing as she farted again, and to her horror, the sound she made was barely audible. The cashier chuckled as she handed her change to her.

“Go, quickly,” she added jokingly. But Annette was not amused.

“That are not for me, its for my grandma,” she lied flatly as she grabbed the package and turned to leave.

But she had taken no more than ten steps when she knew that she needed to go right then. So she headed towards the nearby toilets to put one on. She repeatedly thanked her lucky stars that there wasn’t anyone who was nearby to hear the loud crinkling she was making as she hurried to put on her diaper. And as she attached the last tape, she realised that she didn’t have any wet wipes with her.

She took a deep breath to calm herself down – regretting immediately as the stench of the toilet hit her – before grudgingly smoothening out her diaper and pulling on her jeans. She grabbed the plastic bag containing her purchase, and headed towards the carpark. Quickly starting her motorcycle, she willed her stomach to cooperate, put her purchase in her rear box, and sat down on her machine.

The padding helped soothe her nerves a little, so she put the bike in gear and set off. Turn left onto the main street, then she would be back in her hostel in ten minutes before she got her sweet relief. However the intensity of her impending tsunami get magnifying, so she cranked the throttle and blazed towards her hostel, doing 100 in a 60kmph zone. Just get this over with, she thought to herself.

She turned the corner, and a part of her died when she saw it. The unmistakable action of a traffic police officer gesturing her towards the pavement, meant that she was definitely a fly caught in their notoriously random sting operation. And as she stood peeing herself as the charge was read out to her, the eight demerit points and possible $120 fine didn’t bother her as much as the seismic moment she knew was going to happen in 5…4…3…2…1…

“Alright Miss, since you weren’t driving under the influence of alcohol we will let you go for now. We will send the offence notice to your registered address, and you can leave once you sign this… Miss, are you alright?”

Annette’s face went a bright shade of red as she started to grunt. Bending her knees slightly, her left hand slightly reached out behind her.  She lost attention to what was happening and focused on relieving herself, completely ignoring the police officer who was not much older than herself. Perplexed, he took a step back, surveying her unusual posture. Was she really pooping, or was she about to puke?

Noticing the awkward position she had put him in, she took the document and signed it, before turning to walk away. She waddled slightly, cringing as all the officers eyed her and her exposed jeans, her shirt doing little to shield it. Lifting her bike off its stand, she swung a leg over, before cringing as she sat down. She heard an ‘OMG’ from an officer.

As she rode off into the night, she reflected to herself that she had uncontrollably messed herself in front of a police officer. She hoped that it wouldn’t be recorded down in the offence notice that her dad was sure to open.

– Story by me