Pregnancy Farting: Et Tu, Boo-tay?

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This weekend I was shooting a wedding when sometime during the reception, I farted. I was fortunate that the music was loud enough to mask it, but still. It was enough for me to feel paralyzed at the horror that the pregnancy farting has begun, and I can’t help it. You can’t unring a bell, and you can’t keep that molten air pocket from escaping my massive butt and releasing into the air. Even if it gets trapped in your pants and you have to shake it out because that air bubble is so obvious!

I come from a family of farters, farters who shall remain nameless. Some farters in my family follow the “Sharing is Caring” motto, and they cared for me very, very much. One has left my memory scarred with moments of stopping in the middle of the grocery store just to laugh loudly and announce that her fart was “talking to her.” We would be walking together and then she would pause until I looked back and realized what she was doing. Farting and smiling. “It’s just saying hello!” She laughed.

Because of this history, I am a selective farter. I don’t just hand that out wherever. While I was breaking up with a boyfriend, he confessed to me, “You know, you never farted around me.” Like this was some egregious romantic error, along with always arriving late to dates or constantly referring to my exes. I never farted around one roommate, and I think it was about a year after Mike and I lived together before I even dared to toot. Which didn’t matter because the gentleman can one up me in that arena, pregnant or not.

I feel like my ass has betrayed me. The latest part of my body to morph in this pregnancy. My nails are Ted Hughes long (unclean! unclean!) and my hair is zipping past my shoulders. I already am peeing in the middle of the night, morning and afternoon -- and I was so proud of my enormous reservoir bladder. I made it through a 13-and-a-half-hour flight from Toronto to Japan having only peed twice. Gold medalist!

But when I farted, I froze, looked down and whispered, “ET TU, BOOTAY?”

Mona blogs at kirida dot com where she apologizes in advance for any gas leaks.  She's pregnant and can't help it.


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