London Pride 2010 was this past Saturday. Kitty, her San Franciscan flair for silliness and playfully sexy theatricality on full display, went as "Faggette the clown," showing a bit of clown pride. I went in full little gear: corduroy dungarees, bib, teddy bear, et al. I believe the "back story" was that I was some kid who'd come to the circus, only to then be abducted by the wicked Faggette (a nice tie-in to our 'kids at the circus' outing at the Bizarre Ball*).
This was actually my first time out in little kid gear during the day and I had a great time. Kitty and I got lots of comments on our outfits and they were pretty much all positive. We actually really couldn't have picked a better place to be wearing some spectacularly odd clothing, the partying Priders were all very up and positive about, well, everything, really.
Also, I must admit that it was nice to see that several people asked to take my/our photo or have their photo with me/us. I was especially pleased as, in all honesty, I tend to get a little petty and petulant when I'm out with a girl, we're both in costume, and people ask to take a picture of only them, sometimes specifically asking for me to not be in the shot. However, we were both equally popular. We were also both amused when we discovered that the first people to take photos of us actually had no idea that there was a Pride parade & event going on; I guess they just thought that we'd just stepped out that way that day.
Which, funnily enough, is pretty much exactly what we did the next day!
Yes, in a spectacular spate of bad planning, I'd arranged for a ageplay/ABDL picnic-munch to take place in the middle of the day, the very day after Pride London. I obviously didn't seem to realise that my target audience would have all been out getting plastered the night before. Long story short: no-one came.
Still, the incredible bright side of all this was that Kitty and I got to have a nice picnic in the park in the sunshine, just the two of us, both kitted out as little kids on a 'teddy bear's picnic'. I must admit to having been slightly more embarrassed to be out and about in that get-up on a day where there wasn't the excuse of a big, gay carnival to partially excuse my outfit. Still, I clearly wasn't embarrassed enough to not take some cameraphone photos and post them to Twitter & Facebook. I also uploaded some photos from Pride to facebook, including one bearing the caption "Me, showing some little/AB pride." So yeah, I guess I am now a little bit more 'out' than I may have been previously, although frankly, I imagine many will just think I simply enjoy going out of doors in odd-looking outfits and perhaps won't think to Google what an "AB" is. Still, thanks to previous shenanigans of mine, coupled with Kitty's own utter lack of discretion, I imagine I have few friends left who don't have some vague inkling about my ageplaying side, actually.
Ok, a brief interlude for one dark moment though. I got really, very pissed-off indeed (although in classic British style, I, perhaps quite unfortunately, didn't show it) during the train ride back from Pride (so yeah, due to bad planing, we've gone back one day in the narrative here. Pay attention!). I was still clad in my little gear: dungarees with turned-up trouser legs, bib, and I appeared to have gained a balloon, when a woman not three feet away from me, apparently forgetting that we were on a mostly quiet train and not a rowdy nightclub, where she might have gotten away with making a catty comment about me from three feet away as it would've been drowned out by the general din, very loudly asked, while looking me up and down, "what the fuck is he wearing?"
Now, I wouldn't have even minded as much had she asked me, looking me in the eye, "what the fuck are you wearing?" but no, I got a "he," her eyes instead roving down over me, as if I couldn't hear her or she didn't care if I did. She at least had the sense to look a bit remorseful and shocked at her own - very loud - outburst when I looked her in the eye (again, we were standing near the doors of a London Underground train, only about a metre apart, with no people directly between us), with a questioning look, clearly betraying the adult intelligence that she no doubt thought I didn't have. I politely explained that I was coming back from a parade and a party and that my partner and I were dressed according to what we felt would be appropriate/acceptable for the gig (ashamedly, I didn't mention specifically that it was Gay Pride. For all my supposed pride, I still didn't want to introduce that into the conversation, fearing that that may provoke some bigotry).
She got off the train a couple of stops later and I went down to sit next to Kitty, who, wrapped up in removing her clown face, had actually missed this exchange. Still, I must admit to having been a bit thrown by the whole experience. There's something uniquely insulting about being talked about as if you're deaf, dumb, or just plain not there while you are mere feet away from the person doing so and even looking right at them. I don't feel I'm doing a good job of explaining it here, but I genuinely felt insulted and dehumanised. That stayed with me for the rest of the afternoon.
This was all pretty much forgotten by Sunday night though.
Sunday, after our picnic, Kitty and I retired to my place in Essex. The previous day (I think) Kitty had expressed an interest in doing some more play with her as a little girl, including seeing what it was like on the receiving end of being nappied (the fact that there's a whole ritual around nappying really excites and engages both of us, it seems). We got her into some Bambinos and did a bit of a photoshoot, which was actually all a bit of a misfire, as we didn't have the correct nappy size for her (she is quite a bit bigger around the hips and waist than I), so we ended up trying to jankily tape some nappies down. It was all a bit of a mess. Some correct-sized nappies have since been ordered.
We did manage to get her into some Depends, though. I honestly thought that Depends would not be anywhere near as appealing as the created-with-the-AB-kink-in-mind Bambinos. However, I was surprised to find that they hugged her behind rather well, and I must admit that, seeing her standing in front of me, pigtails in her hair and stuffed toy in hand, wearing absolutely nothing apart from a big, soft, white nappy absolutely gave me the most raging horn, which we were only too glad to act upon.
What surprises me though is that I honestly didn't expect to be able to throw myself so easily into the daddy role and engage in some daddy/little girl play like that. I'm glad to have found some play that we both enjoy, but I still find it strange that I'm increasingly becoming at ease - more than that: enjoying - being the adult caretaker in ageplay/adult baby play. It's certainly interesting, and Kitty and I are still talking through what this means to us and the future of our play with this kink (Kitty is equally, perhaps more, freaked out by the ease with which she slips into the 'baby' role, something she never had thought would appeal to her) but I guess we'll find out what becomes of our discussions of that in the future.
So yeah, phew, a nice, ageplay-themed weekend. And, it seems, one of many to come.
*Oh, and on the subject of the Bizarre Ball, I would just like to say that the photos of Kitty and I in our little kid/adult baby-style outfits were not featured in the Ball photo round-up printed in the latest issue. However, someone in an 'adult baby' outfit that basically amounted to lots of nubile flesh and nearly-completely-visible tits did get featured, twice. More accurate portrayal of the fetish loses out to a blonde-girl-with-her-tits-out, 'sexy' appropriation of it. Grrr. (Ok, minor pissing rant over).
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