Saturday, June 14, 2008

Do You Want Me To Be Uncomfortable?

When I was probably about 10 years old, my mother told me an anecdote about shopping with her mother that shocked me to my grade school girl core. My grandmother, Grams, was a small but forceful woman. She had dark brown eyes, shortish, curly salt-and-pepper hair, fingers gnarled from years of arthritis, and a self-confidence that could, in a pinch, be mistaken for any number of less-constructive attributes. On this particular afternoon, Mom had taken Grams to the local drug store for some supplies. They had trolled the store and found what they needed, and were standing in line at the check-out counter, several other customers behind them. Suddenly, Grams let rip a battalion-strike fart—long, vociferous, odiferous. All the people in line behind her shook their heads, wrinkled their noses, shot disgusted looks at Grams, and left the line for clearer skies. My mother, stuck there where she was, cried "MOM!" in shock. "Well," said Grams matter-of-factly, "do you want me to be uncomfortable?" "Yes, Mom, yes I do!" my mother said. And I, hearing the story, wholeheartedly agreed with her.

Until now. Now, with my guts the way they've been recently—blocked, or blocked and gassy, just gassy, or gassy and loose—I have been in no mood to be uncomfortable. And, I admit, sometimes the gassy is bad. The kind of bad where you're awestruck by what you've managed to produce. The kind of bad that makes a dog back from the room, sneezing and shaking his head, even Spackle, who has been known to do that to us with his own farts. Bad.

It's a good thing I'm spending so much time home alone these days.

4 comments:

Andrienne said...

this is the most brilliant commentary on heroic farts I have ever encountered....I can smell it now..ummmm!

joel said...

Now I understand why Ian and Spackle are sleeping on the guest bed!

allyson said...

there's always something a little funny about farts, even when they are smelly. :) xoxo

Cathy said...

Had to share a funny fart story after reading your wonderful accounts. We were visiting friends (actually work friends .. so not someone you would release in front of) anyway we had just had a rich dinner after which I sometimes would have terrible gas troubles. We were having a wonderful visit when I had a sneak attack that released great pressure. The gentleman of the home immediately got up yelled at the dog as the room filled with the eye watering odor and put him outside. I whispered to my husband that we needed to depart ASAP. He couldn't understand my desire until I got him in the car and explained "It Wasn't The Poor Dog" We have laughed over this many time. Keep the sense of humor rolling ...