Ever since I was a little girl, I remember hearing, “A LADY doesn’t fart“.
That seriously had me questioning if I really wanted to be a “lady”.
As a child, farting was fun.
I might not have been the Spelling Bee Champ, Homecoming Queen, or Valedictorian, but everyone knew when it came to farts, I wore the crown!
I took my skill seriously and couldn’t wait to hover with the boys at P.E and let er rip!
Eventually, I took my farting skills beyond the schoolyard.
I farted in the grocery store, the car, the movies…once I even farted at a Buddhist Temple (much to my mother’s dismay).
I know some of you have your nose turned up already, but don’t fret. I was never rude about it. I always farted with a smile followed by a sweetly apologetic “excuse me”.
I’d attribute this farting feat to my enhanced love of farty foods: broccoli, beans, cheese, White Castle burgers…
Yup, by high school, I was filled with flatulence.
Eventually, I cooled my farting habits in public and reserved my air attacks for special occasions or for around an elite group of fellow farting fanatics.
After I had kids, I realized what a joy it was to pass my bottom burping talent on to my offspring.
Some parents coo over their child’s first words, but me….I remember my proud mommy moment when Mo and B ripped their 1st one in public. *Tear
Yes, we are a farting family. Nothing says love more than a family who breaks wind together.
It’s our bond.
No matter the mood, whenever someone plays the butt trumpet, we are all sure to smile, if not join in.