Cheek Flappers

I've been wondering, at what stage in life do we become embarrassed to fart in front of people. I think for girls it is quite early, 2 to 3 yrs old. I don't know. I don't remember my mom having a "beans and fluff talk" with me. Now boys it is different. Steven takes great joy in sharing his farts. I made the mistake of laughing at one of his more audible farts and said "That was quite the cheek flapper." So around here its cheek flappers. My husband at 42 will fart in front of friends of ours he feels comfortable with while I turn red with embarrassment. Now why is it that a man can fart and everyone laughs "Oh man! You're rotten! Phew!". But if a woman lets one rip? Uncomfortable pause in conversation.
With Steven starting school soon, I've been discussing with him how its not polite to fart in front of other people. I could see the wheels a turnin'. "Where will my farts go if I hold them in forever?" So I helped him plan the great gas attack. Well I said, "When you are on the playground you walk away from people and let a fartie free. And when you go the bathroom, you get as many out as possible." He seemed relieved especially when I told him once he got home he could let em rip.
All of this has made me think about all the mortification gas has brought to me. Let me take you there. I'm 16 yrs old out on a first date with a hottie. Hottie and I meet up with some friends and all hop in a car together. We drove to an isolated place to drink beer and smoke. The owner of the car had an awesome stereo system and loved his music loud. As we are sitting there drinking, laughing and rupturing our ear drums to the music, I started to feel a bubble of gas inching its way down to freedom. Now you would think with the music so loud I would just let her go. But odor cannot be drowned out by Journey no matter how loud its played. So I squeezed the butt cheeks together and forced the bubble back up. Well this happened a couple of times and I was feeling pretty proud of myself....when the bubbles joined forces and retaliated. I farted. Not out of my butt, but internally. I don't know how else to describe it. Over the loud vocalizing of David Lee Roth, this rolling sound erupted, not a quick explosion but a loooonnnnngggg drawn out rumble. I hoped no one else could hear this rebellion over the music and kept on laughing and talking. When Hottie looks at me and says, "What the hell was that?" Now me being quick minded, looked out the closed window and said "I don't know but I'm scared." I don't think he bought it because when they dropped me off at the house Hottie just said bye and never got out of the car.
Shortly after Hubster and I were married, we had just gotten to bed and I felt this pressure building. So I got up and went in the bathroom and let the beast free. The smell was tolerable but not pleasant. I returned to bed thankful I hadn't let it fluff under the sheets and fell to sleep. About an hour later, I wake up to Hubster getting out of bed to go pee and immediately feel the pressure of the beast. So I hurry up and squeezed it out. The smell. Oh the smell. I never knew my body could produce such a rank rotting stench. As I hear the toilet flush, I hurry and fluff the blankets around hoping to lighten the stench and pretend to be asleep. Hubster comes in, lays down and I hear "sniff sniff". He sits up and leans over the side of the bed. Sits up and turns on the light, "Dear I think the cat shit behind the bed!" In a groggy pretense I get up and help him look for the pile of steaming stench. After moving the bed across the room and not discovering the pile, Hubster grabs up the innocent sleeping cat from its bed, "You rotten bastard! You can sleep outside!". I never told my husband that it was me and I to this day I still do a fart odor test in the bathroom before bed because I'm scared to sleep outside.