I grew up in a family where there was my mom, my sister
and myself. My dad was never around, he was always out
on a flight or some other business. It got worse when
my mom and dad got divorced. My dad moved away and I
hardly ever saw him.

I lived with my mom and my sister for the next few
years, with the only changes being when my grandma came
to live with us for a while and then when my aunt came
to live with us at another time. This wasn't bad, but I
knew money was tight in our little family. The child
support check was always on time, but that plus what my
mom made wasn't always enough. I always had clothes to
wear, but they weren't always new or the best.

Until my mom got her promotion, sometimes I got hand-
me-downs. Most people wouldn't complain, but I didn't
like the fact that on the weekends my mom would have me
wear a dress so I could have my regular clothes during
the week. All my mom would tell me was that I was fine,
and not to worry about it, it wasn't anything new for
boys to wear dresses.

I did know that wearing diapers was not normal,
however. I had been in diapers constantly until I was
the age of four, and had worn diapers to bed until
after I was six. On and off, I had regular spells of
bed-wetting, so a box of diapers always sat in my
closet. When my mom and dad got divorced, it became two
boxes--one out and one in reserve; I wasn't just
wetting the bed anymore, I had to go back to wearing
diapers during the day. This eventually dropped back to
one, but I had a hard time with my sister ribbing me
about it.