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Sunshine and clouds mixed. A stray shower or thunderstorm is possible. High 89F. Winds S at 10 to 15 mph..

Partly cloudy this evening. Scattered thunderstorms developing after midnight. Low 69F. Winds S at 5 to 10 mph. Chance of rain 50%.

I flashed my most vibrant "I’m about to be a grandma again!" smile. My cart was full of baby shower gifts and I only needed one more thing. I decided to search for a salesclerk.

“Hi, can you tell me where the diapers would be?” I rocked my cart back and forth as if soothing a drowsy baby at naptime and waited for her direction. She didn’t answer for a second or two. I thought that maybe she didn’t hear me, so I opened my mouth to ask again.

She spoke. Well, she made a noise. A nervous, throat-clearing croak. When her vocal cords were ready for speech, she whispered words my way. I leaned forward to hear her.

“Diapers?” She paled sympathetically, patted my arm gently, and pointed toward the back corner of the store. “Right back there, honey. And don’t you think a thing about it.”

The employee whooshed away, leaving me in a puddle of shock. I looked where she had pointed. Sure enough — it was the aisle of “Incontinent Aids.

I wanted to run after her. To declare, loud and proud, that I meant BABY diapers. Pampers! Luvs! Huggies! Newborn size. For the baby my son and his wife were having. But I didn’t.

It wasn’t her fault. The Depends aisle is getting longer and longer, folks. Products that used to come in one size and brand are now manufactured in every factory that houses absorbent material. They are colorfully packaged, playfully marketed and available in sizes from puny to portly.

And I’ve seen way too many commercials showing dancing women in these bulky bloomers.

Worst of all, my age lands me smack dab in the middle of the demographic targeted for their purchase. It’s some kind of cause-effect phenomenon, I guess. I don’t remember learning about it in my chemistry class from high school — or would it have been in biology?

I should have paid better attention.

I narrowed my eyes warily and scanned this "diaper" aisle. No…NO…Not for me…I was just curious. The squishy bricks of underpants were neatly piled atop one another; they created a Wailing Wall of waning muscle tone and blatantly bold marketing strategy.

Words like "Strong" and "Absorbent" screamed into my eyes in myopically-friendly-sized print. The design of each product was illustrated with colorful diagrams, and little arrows gave a "Diapering for Dummies" explanation of the entire bladder protection-wearing process.

This was a sobering visual depiction of the circle of life. We evidently will need to cover our nether regions to prevent accidents from cradle, and then later — to grave.

Sure. This may be my future someday soon. I might end up spending my waning days hobbling to Walmart and strolling down this very aisle, comparing absorbency capacities and Velcro fastener strength.

But before I need them, could at least make these things prettier? Spritz them with flowers. Add some of those clever “moisture alert” dots that change color when it’s time for a change. Give me ruffles.

And when my time comes to wear bladder protection, I’d even be willing to trade continence for a little comic relief.

Babies get cute pictures on their diapers: cover mine with Spy vs Spy comics from Mad Magazine (they always made me laugh) or maybe knock-knock jokes, and I will howl in full confidence, knowing my padded undies have my backside.

I rolled my cart away from the ‘way-too-much-reality’ aisle and got into the checkout lane with a box of Newborn Pampers, a roll of wrapping paper and a determined goal of dryness that only time, an unexpected sneeze, or a really funny story could shatter.

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