Monday, February 1, 2010

Day 120

Arty Farty had a party, all the farts were there, Tooty Fruity did a beauty, and we all went out for air.

Why are farts so funny? Depending on what phase of life you are in, and your frame of mind, farts can be the most hysterical thing ever. A kids movie with a fart segment is sure to be a hit. Men fart as easily and openly as they yawn, cough and sneeze. Women are often quite appalled by it and are seriously embarrassed if one slips. My boy child thinks he is a farting champion and loves a good fart in your face gag. My girl lets them slip but then vehemently denies any knowledge of said fart and reddens if she is accused. I personally sit on the farting fence with it all. I am appalled when I choose to be (like at the dinner table, in company, when a rotten egg is involved) but when I need to fart I will do it with gusto in either a private location, downwind during a walk or in my immediate family friendly environment. For me farts are neither funny or embarassing, just necessary.

So when did I get so windy? Is this another Deep Fried Fruitism? I don't recall being particularly farty in my youth. In fact I remember going to uni never having farted in front of someone. I mean, my dad was a farting champion as I grew up. He was one of those sitting on the arm chair reading the paper raising one butt cheek to fart type people. He didn't bat an eyelid. Mum would exclaim "Oh Mick!", I would exclaim "Oh Dad!" and he would simply say "it's better to fart and stink a little then rip your arse and be a cripple". I guess that is true. But I never had the inclination to fart in front of others. In fact I would have been appauled! But when I went to university living at uni residences I was introduced to a whole new world of fartdom. There were those that did - girls included - and those that didn't. Those that did thought it hysterical! And they taught me not to be so uptight about it. I recall one friend who used to have farting competitions with her cousins. They would line up on the ground, kneeling with elbows on the floor, bums in the air, and they would fart. But that wasn't the competition. The competition involved sucking the fart back in and refarting. Excellent. They were called "Pal farts". Not because they were done with friends, but because they sounded like a can of Pal (dog food) when you scoop the meat out ... a kind of sucking farting noise. Another friend would fart silently and then sit their in silent convulsions as her body shook with laughter at her own bodily functions. There was no need to question it, you just knew you had to run because the harder she shook, and the wider her eyes, the smellier you knew her fart was going to be.

I don't recall when I started farting in front on my husband. Someone asked me that once. They said "oh wise woman Leanne" (well, they didn't use those words exactly), when do you think it is ok to pass wind in front of your boyfriend? Gosh. That's an interesting question. I mean, you don't want to fart like a man because he will run back to his mother, and you don't want to keep it all sucked in only to fart 10 years down the track and have him run back to his mother. It has to happen naturally and daintally and with dignity and a bit of pride mixed in. It helps if you pretend to be mortified while he gently consoles you and tells you it is ok. That way you get to keep your lady like status without having to have future arse ripping experiences due to an internal wind tunnel. Remember that Sex and the City scene where Carry farts in front of Mr Big the first time? That's what you are aiming for.

So, why am I focussing on farts today? Because as Deep Fried Fruit my farts are intensifying. Wearing my "suck everything in scuba suit" undies doesn't help because the firmness and constriction seems to intensify gas. Not that I wear them every day. Only on special occasions. But special occasions are no place to fart. And since having the medical procedure I seem to be loaded with gas and bubbles and all things that squeak. How much air was let into my hoo hoo, when he inserted the do dad into my which what? And how and when am I going to let all that air out? Time to pop this balloon and get into the pal fart position I think, because as Dad says, you don't want any arse ripping crippling repercussions!

Might be best if no one visits me today, and if you do and the scented candle is lit, then ... well ... you've been warned.

Happy farting.

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