Tuesday
25Jul2006
I Just Gave Up My Womanhood
It began as a lovely family dogpile atop our marital bed. It ended with me giving up my womanhood in a most violent manner. It sounds melodramatic, but that's exactly what happened. A sound. A horrific noise that tore a hole in the very fabric of my marriage. I was comfortably paging through the latest In Touch mag. The Surge was reading. Max was snoring. And then it happened.
I generally claim not to have ever experienced this particular body function. Me, fart? NEVER. I am an exquisitely delicate cupcake of a broad. Sure I swear like a trucker.. But farting? It's simply not in my repertoire. Or so I've claimed. Until now.
I thought it would be silent. And not deadly. I thought it would enter the universe as gently as a butterfly emerges from a cocoon and silently flutter away. It didn't. Max startled from slumber and gallumped to his feet, enormous dog noggin swaying this way and that as if to say What the fuck was that? Are we under attack??
I chanced a look at my husband, afraid of what I might see looking back at me. He was staring in shock. Not so much because I was revealed to have bodily functions like the rest of the free world. That didn't bother him. It's because I have a very vocal dislike of farts that manifests itself every single time he unleashes his inner air on our household.
I have an extreme aversion to the farts of others. I can follow the stinky trail all the way back to my childhood when my older brother would regularly administer thrashings followed by his coup de grace - sitting on my head and farting.
We'd be watching television, me on one couch, my brother on the other. In the blink of an eye and at no provocation from me he would leap onto my couch, push my head to his crotch and let loose. AND HOLD MY HEAD THERE! How I loathed him and subsequently anyone I dated who seemingly farted on purpose. It's not that I'm a fart prude. Because they were used as a weapon in my youth, I don't take farts passively. They aren't just an involuntary bodily function. They are a very deliberate attack! An affront to my senses.
With The Surge, it's turned into a joke.. if I'm at one end of the house and he quietly releases on the other end I'll shout jokingly (with as deadly serious an undercurrent as the fart he just let fly) I heard that!. It's funny. Kind of. Eventually he told me to lay off the fart monitoring, it was a tad obsessive. When he inquired about my own farting history I'd reply demurely "a woman never farts" and she certainly never farts and tells.
So in that endless moment last night, after I dropped the bomb, before I looked my husband in the eye.. all of those fart monitoring incidents flashed before my eyes in a parade of shame.
The Surge? Didn't bat an eye. In response to the fart hyprocrisy I had loudly revealed, he accordianed his lips as if trying to repress laughter, languidly turned a page in his book and drawled, "Congratulations. You just gave up your womanhood in as violent a manner possible."
I generally claim not to have ever experienced this particular body function. Me, fart? NEVER. I am an exquisitely delicate cupcake of a broad. Sure I swear like a trucker.. But farting? It's simply not in my repertoire. Or so I've claimed. Until now.
I thought it would be silent. And not deadly. I thought it would enter the universe as gently as a butterfly emerges from a cocoon and silently flutter away. It didn't. Max startled from slumber and gallumped to his feet, enormous dog noggin swaying this way and that as if to say What the fuck was that? Are we under attack??
I chanced a look at my husband, afraid of what I might see looking back at me. He was staring in shock. Not so much because I was revealed to have bodily functions like the rest of the free world. That didn't bother him. It's because I have a very vocal dislike of farts that manifests itself every single time he unleashes his inner air on our household.
I have an extreme aversion to the farts of others. I can follow the stinky trail all the way back to my childhood when my older brother would regularly administer thrashings followed by his coup de grace - sitting on my head and farting.
We'd be watching television, me on one couch, my brother on the other. In the blink of an eye and at no provocation from me he would leap onto my couch, push my head to his crotch and let loose. AND HOLD MY HEAD THERE! How I loathed him and subsequently anyone I dated who seemingly farted on purpose. It's not that I'm a fart prude. Because they were used as a weapon in my youth, I don't take farts passively. They aren't just an involuntary bodily function. They are a very deliberate attack! An affront to my senses.
With The Surge, it's turned into a joke.. if I'm at one end of the house and he quietly releases on the other end I'll shout jokingly (with as deadly serious an undercurrent as the fart he just let fly) I heard that!. It's funny. Kind of. Eventually he told me to lay off the fart monitoring, it was a tad obsessive. When he inquired about my own farting history I'd reply demurely "a woman never farts" and she certainly never farts and tells.
So in that endless moment last night, after I dropped the bomb, before I looked my husband in the eye.. all of those fart monitoring incidents flashed before my eyes in a parade of shame.
The Surge? Didn't bat an eye. In response to the fart hyprocrisy I had loudly revealed, he accordianed his lips as if trying to repress laughter, languidly turned a page in his book and drawled, "Congratulations. You just gave up your womanhood in as violent a manner possible."
Jul 25, 2006
Reader Comments (31)
Thanks.
Have you seen that reality show about Adrienne Curry and Christopher Knight? She fart on him all the time, and she belches ALL THE TIME! He still loves her! But what 55 year old man wouldn't want a 23 year old model! LOL
Men tend to be very proud of their farts. My brother and I will call each other just to fart over the phone at one another. Sadly, women tend to not be proud of their farts. It is a rare woman indeed who can revel in the acrid anal emissions.
I say, let 'er rip and be proud, and anyone who is offended be damned!
1) My brother used to do the same thing
2) I once farted during my 9th grade Spanish final. The room was deadly quiet and I had to use that moment to let one rip. It was one of the most embarrassing things ever.
To Brian's point, I prefer the "stealthy" Dutch Oven...before the wife hops into bed, let a few SBDs go and give them a chance to ripen. When she pulls back the covers to hop into bed...magic time!
Heh heh. Farts *are* funny!
Boobs are awesome because they are boobs.
Farts are funny because they are farts.
There is really nothing more to it. A deeper reason would be un-manlike.
This one is classic, Monica--CLASSIC.
Good rule of thumb in these situations: if you've thought about it for more than 2 seconds, that's 1.5 seconds more thought than the guy has put into it.
That is too funny. Too true. Farts ARE funny.
You always know when my one dog farts because he suddenly runs across the room, then chases his tail in a circle like he doesn't know what the hell just came out of his ass. It's hysterical to watch.
I never inflicted too much pain on my three sisters or brother. We did have the "Whoever smelt it dealt it." rule, however.
[Oh, and du_dragons: Well said.]
There are ads around our city right now that say, 'the average person farts 14 times a day' and it shows a woman with her skirt flying up a la Marilyn Monroe. I think that the 14 times a day thing is propaganda.
My husband's farts are so disgusting that they wake me up in the middle of the night because I can TASTE them....GROSS...
It is really insane, and one might want to blame it on my vegetarian
all-cruciferous vegetable and bean diet (not really, but close) but
my mom claims I was born farting a lot. And I can't stop it. I can
cross my legs and eyes and squeeze but sometimes it still is
unstoppable. I can't count the hundreds of embarrassing incidents
this has caused. I beg for sympathy!
What can I say? I've had some interesting moments.