I promised fart talk, and apparently today is TMI Thursday, so here we go.
I don't fart.
People don't believe me when I tell them this, but it's true. I'll qualify by saying that of course a little one slips once in a while, like if I laugh too hard after eating a tub of chili, or I dream about riding on a giant balloon with a hole in it. But I never intentionally let one rip outside of a bathroom.
That last part is important. Once I'm within range of the W.C., I can really sound off. When I wake up in the morning, it's a veritable symphony.
But when I'm out and about, or even alone at home, you'll hear not a single trouser cough from me.
There are many reasons for this. Part of it goes back to my childhood. When I was a kid — ok you're going to think I'm an idiot now — but for a period of a few weeks when I was a kid, I thought farts were shit transmuted into air. Like if you fart enough, all the poop will fly out as air and you'll never have to take a dump. So I farted a lot.
I soon realized some of the inevitable consequence of farting a lot: smelling funny, and skid marks. Probably not a huge problem for most people, but when your mom still does your laundry, it can be embarrassing. So I did a 180 and stopped farting. And let me tell you, since then, my underwear is so clean you could eat off of it. My underwear, it lasts until the elastic band goes.
And although I have no memories of this happening that I haven't blocked out, there is a constant threat for people who fart on a regular basis:
The shart. Gas followed by mass. The difference between the two can be hard to identify until it's already out, and then it's too late. It may be a small risk, but given the possibly catastrophic consequences, the risk doesn't justify the reward for me.
I don't feel the need to toot in public. Gas buildup never happens any more frequently than I'm on the toilet anyway.
I am not trying to convince everyone to stop playing the butt trumpet (even though the world would smell better if you did). I just want to raise awareness that not everyone falls in line with the cheese-cutting agenda.
P.S. I really wanted to work in the phrase "skid marks on the Hershey highway to Brown Town" somewhere in this post. I guess I'll just have to plop it here.
P.P.S. There is talk of farting over at Blonde Monde today too.