adult babygrows

Now admittedly I should have used slightly more commonsense and refined my google search slightly. I also should have been aware that the world is full of people who are not as pure of mind as I. I should also be careful how I phrase things – but I was amazed at the amount of filth and perverse material appeared on my screen when I googled “Adult baby grows”.

Perhaps I should explain. I spend as much time as possible in my pyjamas. One would almost call them day wear as I don’t tend to wear certain pyjamas to bed –saving them for lounging around the house and greeting dignitaries. For sometime now I thought that some kind of romper suit would be incredibly comfortable. I should stress I live on my own. I was briefly diverted by a longing for a top of the range adults lion costume (an all in one professional job, I wasn’t planning on leaping around the house in some tan tights and leotard combo that my mum knocked up for a school play). I wasn’t planning on sitting there with the head on or a face full of drawn on whiskers but again it looked very comfortable. Sadly a brief bit of investigation after a friend said he would get me one for my birthday revealed that these too are very expensive. I have also toyed with the idea of making myself a kind of duvet suit. With a jumper and trousers fashioned out of a duvet but I thought I might get a bit hot. I could also look a bit like the marshmallow man out of ghostbusters and he’s never really been something I wish to aspire to. Besides I don’t have a sailor’s hat.

So yeah, I googled “adult baby grows”, and my god the filth. Even reading the description of some of the sites gave me the pre-vom spits and I wasn’t stupid enough to click on any of them. A few years ago I worked on a magazine that one month came with a sealed section. Now I should have been warned; sealed is usually code for filth. There was an article on bondage, one about someone who loved going to prossies, a couple more that escape my memory and then one about adult babies and one about plushing. Both still give me nightmares. I can not look at a cuddle toy with “loving eyes” without a cold shiver going the length of my spine. But the adult baby one was weird. This wasn’t for people that were looking for comfy house wear, this was for people who wanted to be bottle fed, burped, sleep in a giant cot and do things to their “mothers” that would make you call social services.

Which again I would like to stress – I do not want to do. I would merely like to upgrade my pyjamas to a classical all in one. We don’t enjoy pyjamas anymore. People used to dress for the occasion. I’ve seen the films. Men would wear silk pyjamas with a hanky in the top pocket, women would wear diaphanous night gowns and waft around before retiring. Further back and there were floor length night gowns, candle holders and hats. Hats! I would love to wear a night hat. We just don’t have style anymore. Where once there were hand-stitched leather slippers we now have slipper socks (which never come in normal shades, grown women have to walk around with novelty Winnie the Pooh socks on in an attempt to keep warm – and before you start I know slagging off Disney clothing is a bit rich coming from the girl who wants to spend her weekends dressed as a lion).

I shall learn to live with it. Perhaps I could wean myself on to daywear. Perhaps start with tracksuit bottoms and work my way up. I might even like it. I would imagine changing my expectations is easier than reversing time.