So the quote goes “It’s better to fart in public and bear the shame than hold it in and bear the pain.”
That’s the saying my mother has lived by all of her life. Believe me, I’m not letting any of the skeletons out of our family closet, if you know my mother, she’s comfortable bearing shame and not the pain.
When my sister and I were kids, if she had to pass some gas at a restaurant or while shopping she was quick to let people know around us that it wasn’t her but one of us. “taawd, did you poo-poo in your diaper?” “taawyna, do you not feel good, does your little tummy hurt?” she’d ask us, all while passing a little flatulence.
Nothing is holy to her, not even church, where she was known to cut the cheese, in the SBD form.
On our way home from church, it was like 10 degrees outside and my grandfather was driving. My mother stepped on a duck and the smell wafted through the car. My grandfather, who doesn’t say much, exclaimed “Jo!” and then proceeded to roll down ALL of the windows and let the cold in and the smell out.
I love my mother, even the farting, just not the smell!