Thursday, 29 July 2010

Crazy nappy lady

My name is Badger, and I am addicted to nappies.

This is yet another in a series of 'what a sad state of affairs', otherwise known as Lumpy-induced generalized crapness (a recognized medical condition which is, sadly, terminal - see previous post for lager-based evidence of this tragic disease).

How did I sink this low? Mere months ago, I had never even changed a nappy - not even a standard-issue disposable. Yet now I will happily rant for hours about pocket systems versus shaped terry with waterproof pants at anyone who comes within a half-mile radius. If you have no idea what that last sentence means, then you obviously haven't visited me in the last month. Or you have, and wisely shoved your fingers in your ears and took refuge under the table as soon as I started. I spend hours online browsing nappy shops and feel bereft if I don't have a new sample turning up in the post every day. I experiment in stuffing techniques, and my first reaction when I find my lap filled with escapee poo is not 'Oh. My. God. I have a lap full of toxic orange baby poo', but rather 'Hmmm, interesting. The leg cuffs of the Pop 'n' Gro aren't as all-containing as I thought. Or maybe I should have doubled up with an extra microfibre insert. Or would that be overstuffing..?' All while my dining companions stare at me in mute horror, wondering when I'm going to get up and clean the poo off my lap. I even love washing the poo-encrusted, pee-soaked things, delighting in how they transform from skanky rags to fluffy loveliness in the space of a mere was cycle. And I bubble over with preening smugness and pride as I hang them all out on the line. Look! They're so small! And cute! And fluffy! Here, let me rub your face with them! Stop! Why do you run from me, screaming in that way??

This is clearly becoming a serious problem. Even in the grips of my obsession, I realize most normal people don't really want to hear about things that are basically portable baby toilets. But, like all the worst drug bores, I don't really care. On and on I drone, eulogizing on the wonders of reusable wipes, as my friends' eyes glaze over and they consider whether smothering themselves to death with a handy Tots Bots Bamboozle would be more effective than attempting to garrote me with a Bum Genius outer shell.

I clearly need to start up some sort of self-help group. Nappy Sniffers Anonymous. Reusable Ranters Redeemed. Together we can break this cycle of addiction!

But first, I hear they have special offers on Little Lambs. Must just go and check them out...

No comments:

Post a Comment