In the air tonight

This weekend I was shooting a wedding when sometime during the reception, I farted. I was fortunate that the music was loud enough to mask it, but still. It was enough for me to feel paralyzed at the horror that the pregnancy farting has begun and I can’t help it. You can’t unring a bell and you can’t keep that molten air pocket from escaping my massive butt and releasing into the air. Even if it gets trapped in your pants and you have to shake it out because that air bubble is so obvious!

I come from a family of farters, farters who shall remain nameless. Some farters in my family follow the “Sharing is Caring” motto and they cared for me very, very much. One has left my memory scarred with incidences of stopping in the middle of the grocery store just to laugh loudly and announce that her fart was “talking to her.” We would be walking together and then she would pause until I looked back and realized what she was doing. Farting and smiling. “It’s just saying hello!” She laughed.

Because of this history, I am a selective farter. I don’t just hand that out wherever. While I was breaking up with a boyfriend, he confessed to me, “You know, you never farted around me.” Like this was some egregious romantic error, along with always arriving late to dates or constantly referring to my exes. I never farted around one roommate, and I think it was about a year after Mike and I lived together before I even dared to toot. Which didn’t matter because the gentleman can one up me in that arena, pregnant or not.

I feel like my ass had betrayed me. The latest part of my body to morph in this pregnancy. My nails are Ted Hughes long (unclean! unclean!) and my hair is zipping past my shoulders. I already am peeing in the middle of the night, morning, afternoon and I was so proud of my enormous reservoir bladder. I made it through a 13 and a half hour flight from Toronto to Japan having only peed twice. Gold medalist!

But when I farted, I froze, looked down and whispered, “ET TU, BOOTAY?”

Ironically, this development began right after I wrote about how Nathan and Mike are huge farters and how Febreze has helped the situation. Also, you can win a $100 Visa gift card and a Febreze gift basket! If you win, you can forgive me in advance when I fart at your family BBQ or christening or Passion Party! I can’t help it!

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Comments

  1. “ET TU, BOOTAY?”

    Ha ha ha!

    Farts are funny. Except when I get crop dusted.

  2. Oh hell. I hated the pregnancy farts. You can usually blame crazy body eruptions on the baby when you are pregnant but nobody seems to buy the farting. If they catch you, they just look at you like you are a dirty dirty whale.

  3. Will you be here on the 17th? If so, I’ll expect a really good fart. What a great night it will be – my friend, the Passion Party consultant, is pregnant also! So farts from both of you. What a fun night. Boy, I’m really looking forward to it now. I better buy more wine…

  4. The one I fondly remember, “…you can feel free to fart in front of me (insert fart) anytime”. That one has been an ice breaker without fail.

  5. Ever heard of Familian Dodu? Yup…Shon is the head of that family. I feel yah on the fartage in the store accompanied by him saying “If I dodu right here”

  6. Ahahaha! This is a great post! I was so pissed when James told his coworker about how gassy I was when I was pregnant. He used to call me Gassius Clay! lol!

  7. I’m so jealous! I do not come from a family of farters, and so my stinky-lady status has made me an outcast. When I was pregnant, it was out of control, but sadly I can’t blame the pregnancy anymore. For whatever reason, it always seems to be the soup aisle at the A&P where the toots attack!

  8. “ET TU, BOOTAY?”

    HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! You’re so funny. I always love reading your blog.

  9. “because that air bubble is so obvious” – OH MY THAT IS TOO FUNNY! Gotta love laughing at work and hoping nobody asks you why… this whole post was so great! The mere mention of Febreeze helping your situation… awesome.

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