Occasionally, I Fart Like a Clydesdale

A few months ago, I was listening to my favourite morning radio segment while driving to work, as per usual, and the hosts were quoting statistics about the percentage of people who pass gas in front of their significant other.

I can't remember what the actual statistics they quoted were, but they were fairly similar to this post from Connections.Mic, which collected answers from more than 125 people in their 20s and 30s. They found that 22.4% of people begin farting in front of their significant other only a few weeks after beginning the relationship, while 9.3% of people waited a whole year, and a very small blue piece of the pie chart who claimed that they "always left the room."

There seems to be this urban legend that the female population doesn't have bodily functions, but come on! In this era of equality and freedom, people should be able to fluff in in front of each other. Speaking from experience, there is nothing better than being able to toot in front of your significant other. Seriously. It's very freeing. Don't believe me? Well, clearly you have never been in a social situation when your GI system decided to wage war on the rest of your body.

It's always in the midst of something important, that your body decides to make sounds that are better attributed to cannons or fireworks. Say, during a double date after you've stuffed yourself full of butter chicken, or right before an important work meeting when the aftermath of your past self's terrible food choices come to light, or God forbid when your significant other gives you "the look." You know that look I'm talking about, that one that clearly signals bedroom intent but isn't actually the least bit sexy...that look.

Anyways, it's during those inopportune times that your body begins to literally lose it's shit. And what is the common denominator during most of these times (besides your terrible eating habits?) Your significant other! (That is if you like spending time with them). Now, I know for a fact that I went through a phase of not being able to break wind in front of Drake, because I was not nearly as openly disgusting then as I am now. But we've been together for so long that I can't really remember that time of our lives. I can vaguely picture teenage me demurely excusing myself to the bathroom and trying to empty my tank as it were as quietly as possible while simultaneously flushing the toilet to cover any noises, but to be honest, that's not a reality I ever want to live in again.

Nowadays, if I'm feeling gassy, I politely give Drake a heads up so that he can prepare himself for the travesty that's about to come from my bottom. Then I just go for it. I mean I'm not someone who makes air biscuits on purpose, but who am I to inhibit my body's gassy demands? And as gross as it is, it's awesome! Armed with our sense of humour and a can of Febreze: Meadows and Rain, we laugh about it, make jokes, and blame the foods we've ingested. Drake's catch phrase for himself is, "I can't help it! It's the popcorn!" Fortunately, he reacts so very politely to my smelly whispers, "Oh my God, you fart like a Clydesdale!"

Having a flatulence partner in crime makes those awkward social situations so much easier! Drake and I have a standing agreement that if we are ever out with his friends and I let one rip, he will always, without fail, take the blame for me. Because that's what love is; taking the blame for your wife's horrible butt burps.

Unfortunately, it's totally different when I'm out with my friends. If someone happens to cut the cheese in a large group, we all just kind of ignore it and subtly roll down the windows of the car or drift away from the smelly location. However, it's much easier to deal with in a smaller group. I remember staying over at a friend's house for the first time a couple of years ago (not as in my first ever sleepover, I didn't grow up under a rock, but the first time I stayed at this particular friend's house). We had just gotten ourselves all tucked into bed, when all of the sudden she lets one rip. It was loud, it was long, and it was smelly. Instead of getting upset or embarrassed, she says, "Well, I'm glad that's over with. Next friend level reached!" And she was 100% right! I was also feeling gassy, and she totally took the pressure off (PUN INTENDED! Hah!). Seriously though, it made the whole interaction so much more comfortable. I didn't have to worry about grossing her out or being self-conscious.

Bottom line (Hah! I'm on fire!), trouser trumpeting is a fact of life. Do yourself a favour and fluff in front of your significant other, your family, and your friends. It does great things for your relationship and your body.

Best,

Laura

*P.S. During this post, me, myself, and I played a game of "How many different ways can you think of to say the word fart?" It was super fun, I hope you also enjoyed it. However, I couldn't seem to bring myself to use the term "blow ass," it sounded too crude - even for me.