I’m going against my better judgment here, because that’s just what I do. Not really. Well, sometimes.
For starters, I was not allowed to say the word “fart” growing up. Not exactly sure why. Too crass? Uncouth? Sounded like a cuss word? I couldn’t say “butt” either. So, there was a lot of talk about tooting and bottoms at our house. (and the occasional rebellious “butt-head”)
These days, “fart” and “butt” are like my two favorite words.
I do let my girls say the words, but we balance it out with proper words like “booty.”
Second of all, I’m about to reveal something that’s probably better left private. But I have this thing about wanting people to know they’re not alone. Although sometimes it backfires, like the time I asked a friend, “Is it just me, or do you stare at other women’s boobs?”
Her blank stare made me want to crawl in a hole.
Until she said, “Noooooo, but I do stare at their rear ends.” Come to find out, I was a little obsessed with finding a bosom friend, so to speak, someone who, like me, bought her bras in the junior department.
My friend was super-happy with her own bosom but didn’t really like her rear.
As I share this story with women all over the place during my “Sex Talk,” I get to hear all kinds of fun tales of which body parts different people ogle. You’d be surprised.
OKAY. Time to get to my point.
We had the BEST day Wednesday at my mom and dad’s house. Me, my fam, my parents, my two sisters, their husbands, and their combined five adorable kiddos. We were all sitting outside in camping chairs in a circle, enjoying the gorgeous weather and each other. We had just spent time introducing the littles to my Uncle Tim’s dairy farm and then picked some delicious cherries.
I don’t remember how the whole convo got started. Maybe it was Baby Lila’s enormous toot and subsequent squirty poop that very nearly got all over Bethany. Then I brought up the interesting fact Uncle Tim had shared with me in the barn earlier. I had asked if we could bring the kiddos back at milking time, because it’s so awesome, and then I remembered he doesn’t like a big crowd because it makes the cows jittery.
And he said, “It’s not that it makes them jittery. They just get all excited, and the dung and urine production increases exponentially.”
Ah, so that’s why I’ve never once been in the barn and NOT seen a cow pee or poop.
And then, sitting in that intimate circle of family I love, LIGHTBULB.
Bookstores make me fart.
Not sometimes or occasionally, but ONE HUNDRED PERCENT of the time. I walk in a bookstore, and bam! I have to fart. Whether I actually do or not, I’m not going to say. I do have a tiny bit of dignity I’d like to preserve.
So I shared this with my family, brothers-in-law included. And one person in the circle said, “I have to fart in bookstores too, but I thought it was the coffee.” Maybe it is. This person loves coffee. Another person said, “I have to fart when I’m out in nature.” This person loves nature.
And on and on it went.
When we are in our happy place (with books, smelling coffee, enjoying the great out-doors), our excitement leads to relaxation, and the relaxation leads to gas. (I don’t claim to know the scientific explanation for this.)
And I had another lightbulb moment. A big chunk of what I do writing-&-speaking-wise is to get people to find out what they’re most passionate about and use it to serve God and others. And sometimes it’s so hard for people to figure out what it is they love.
And to that, I say, “FIND OUT WHAT MAKES YOU FART, AND GO DO THAT WITH ALL YOUR HEART.”
I’m so on to something here. A new book. A speaking tour. Who knows? The sky’s the limit.
Livi asked me later if I fart in airports since I love to travel. I probably do! I’m going to pay close attention next time. Or maybe when I’m holding globes or sitting on the ground holding beautiful children in Cambodia.
Okay, brave souls. Spill it. What makes YOU fart?