I'm still laughing from yesterday. Also I gotta weigh in on the "period poop" phenomenon. This only recently started happening to me. It really is awful, hastily removing a tampon before all hell breaks loose. And it always ends the same way, to borrow a fitting phrase coined by my sister: the milliwipe. You know, where you have to sit there and wipe and wipe and wipe and finally your butt hurts and you're like "fuck this." Oh the humanity! I tried using baby wipes for a while when this happened, but then I saw blood (blood!!) on the wipe and gave up. There really is no happy medium here. Either you leave the bathroom frustrated and aware of the fact that there is still an errant trace of feces in there, or you leave the bathroom tired and sore. Gotta love the menses, yo.
Gosh, if I suspect my SO of stinking up the bedroom, I'll probably just sit on his head and try to squeeze out a worse one! Laughing the whole while of course.
Normally he isn't sly about it anyway, he likes to do it really loud and on one of my body parts preferably.
I grew up with my Dad and my brother, who are both major walking gas bombs. I finally made a rule that they couldn't fart in the kitchen, just so I could have some fresh air! So when my brother was telling me about the woman he was dating and he said that she has very little sense of smell, I told him it was fate (they've been married 5 years).
I can burp like my brother and Dad, but refuse to fart like them. I just can't. Mr. Shasse will walk away from me or look me in the eye and announce that he feels like my brother. That gives me time to run away.
I ain't no lady, but I have always thought it to be sufficient etiquette in such instances to slide the emitting ass to the edge of the bed, lift the covers, poot into the large and diluting ocean of air that is the room, wait a beat, and then come back under the covers. Anyone for whom this is insufficiently considerate ("You should have gone out of the house and run down the block, or held it in until you exploded!") is disqualified from a return engagement. (Usually.)
@purefog: A fine tactic unless your side of the bed is against the wall. Mr. Glass is not against the wall, nor does he try to deliver his presents to freedom. He prefers to let his business infiltrate the entire bed, and subscribes to the idea that there are only 2 kinds of farts, one's own and anyone else's. Naturally he is immune to the former. I am not. Floofing ensues.
So what do y'all do about farting in bed? I lift the covers up and floof it out, but Mr. Glass thinks it's uncouth to do so. He prefers to wallow, I guess. What do you ladies do?
I have the luxury of my own office -- instead of a cubicle. Unfortunately, I work long hours and have to wear pantyhose.
The result? I find myself sitting at my desk at 8 pm with about 3 meals inside my poor belly encased in Spandex, pressing with gas to escape. Two lessons: first, Spandex requires more active force to expel for comfort, and, second, the walls are not as thick as one would hope in that circumstance. I have heard colleagues laughing at my evening emissions.
@Beckysharpstick: That's like snowpants. Good god! My technique is to stretch the waistband back and do a fan motion quickly. Otherwise, you're trapped with it for ages.
Oh dear Lord, I am literally sobbing with laughter. First I was chuckling, then the tears started rolling down my face, and now I'm actually weeping.
I never fart in front of my fiancé (or anyone else, for that matter). I'm sure I do it in my sleep, but he never mentions it. His are audible but not too stinky. The dog's are silent but deadly.
When I was a little kid, my mom once told me that, if I felt the need to fart in public, I should just try to find a corner or something and let it out away from other people. For years I thought she wanted me to get up from, like, the dinner table at my friend's house, go over to the corner, fart, and then rejoin the dinner like nothing had happened! Thank God I never actually followed her advice...
@Lola del Rio: I don't think it was her inability to talk about farts. Tracie, more than anyone, is comfortable discussing bodily functions. It was the politeness factor that was prohibiting them from talking. Just because they're engaged doesn't mean they should quit being polite and respectful ... and sometimes, respectful means pretending that fart didn't happen.
My husband one day looked at me, love filling up his eyes, and said, "my mom said I'd never find a wife that farted at the dinner table."
My only issue with farting is that when I fart a really bad one and I try to lure my husband over, I can't keep a poker face and he usually figures it out.
I so totally saw that one coming - I walk with neighbors every morning super early (4 miles fast) and well, ocassionally there's tooting - we don't even excuse ourselves anymore...
11/25/08
11/25/08
11/25/08
Normally he isn't sly about it anyway, he likes to do it really loud and on one of my body parts preferably.
11/25/08
I can burp like my brother and Dad, but refuse to fart like them. I just can't. Mr. Shasse will walk away from me or look me in the eye and announce that he feels like my brother. That gives me time to run away.
11/24/08
11/24/08
11/24/08
11/24/08
The result? I find myself sitting at my desk at 8 pm with about 3 meals inside my poor belly encased in Spandex, pressing with gas to escape. Two lessons: first, Spandex requires more active force to expel for comfort, and, second, the walls are not as thick as one would hope in that circumstance. I have heard colleagues laughing at my evening emissions.
I hang my head in shame.
11/24/08
11/24/08
11/24/08
I never fart in front of my fiancé (or anyone else, for that matter). I'm sure I do it in my sleep, but he never mentions it. His are audible but not too stinky. The dog's are silent but deadly.
When I was a little kid, my mom once told me that, if I felt the need to fart in public, I should just try to find a corner or something and let it out away from other people. For years I thought she wanted me to get up from, like, the dinner table at my friend's house, go over to the corner, fart, and then rejoin the dinner like nothing had happened! Thank God I never actually followed her advice...
11/24/08
You're going to marry this man but can't talk about your farts.
You know his last name, right?
11/24/08
11/24/08
My only issue with farting is that when I fart a really bad one and I try to lure my husband over, I can't keep a poker face and he usually figures it out.
11/24/08
The first time one of us farted, it was him on top the 2nd time we were having sex. It was hilarious beyond measure.
11/24/08
11/24/08
11/24/08
My boyfriend totally farted bad in bed one night several times and he doesn't have a dog. He hasn't done it since but damn!! He didn't even apologize.
11/24/08
11/24/08
Also, he refers to gassy poops as "farts with prizes". Disgusting? Yes. Adorable? You bet.
11/24/08
11/24/08
11/24/08