Last year I was listening to Kim Cattrall on Woman's Hour talking about the joys of being single. An irony really when you think about the sassy sexy character Samantha Jones she played in Sex and the City. But Kim was was pretty chipper and upbeat about her single status. One of the joys that she cited was the ability to be able to fart in bed at night with impunity.
I mentally applauded her audacious revelation. Being a contemporary of Kim's, and also single, I hadn't really ever appreciated this first world freedom pass to be able to salaciously sound off under the covers late at night while tiny children slept and fractious foxes screamed outside my bedroom window.
It was just something I had been able to do without ever giving it a second thought. As natural as breathing, when the wind needed to exhale, it did so without thinking.
And then something happened. I met the love of my life.
Being in love is the most incredible thing in the world, but problematic when you suddenly realise that you have to suppress your raging wind for the sake of lascivious proprietary.
Love is a very natural state of being, but then again, so is farting. And here was where my conflict began. Goodness it was a nightmare suddenly having to become a fifty something sex siren and having to manage your daily flatulence output.
It was also quite painful.
Was it just me, I wondered, or did other women try to suffer in a muffled wind suppressed silence? And if not, how did they manage this loving interruptus night mare?
I ponder this and came to conclude that out of all of the women on this planet, it surely wasn't the just Kim and I who were worried about inappropriate trumping.
Well, the truth was, as I soon discovered, it wasn't.
And you will not be surprised to hear that this is a issue that is constantly trending in homes all over the world as I type. Just like the wind that needs to find an exit, there's a woman out there right now reading this hoping that her other half will leave the room so that she can ease her trapped wind from captivity.
It's true.
And how do I know this? Well, I know this because I mentioned it in passing to a few girlfriends of mine. One told me that a friend of hers had been married for five years and was about to delivery their first baby. And, get this, she had never farted in front of her husband.
Well, I replied, both of them are in for big surprise.
Another told me that after a few years of marriage, she just couldn't suppress it any longer as it was just too painful. So now, just like Elsa in Frozen, she just lets it go.
She is, she now tells me, no longer in pain. Which is a big thumbs up. Kim would be proud.
One young woman told me that she was the product of a father who used to congratulate both her and her brother on their style and content when either one of them passed wind, while her mother cringed with horror.
All true stories, which aren't at all funny. No it's just dreadful trying to keep it all in, when your body is desperate to let it out. It's also quite bad for you.
This ridiculous obsession with wind and bodily functions is nothing to be embarrassed about. It's just the way your body works whether it is male or female.
And I don't quite understand why it is such a big issue?
So I did some research on the subject (meaning I Googled it and read a page dedicated to it on Wikipedia). Did you know that the word Fart is one of the oldest words around and it's use was considered a profanity.
Or that the act of farting is well recorded in a negative way in many works of literature? No? Me neither.
Or that Benjamin Franklin wrote an essay on the topic? Me neither. Or that some parliamentary rebels wrote a satirical poem entitled The Parliament Fart during the reign of King James I?
Fair play.
I know, it's all so fascinating isn't it?
Not surprisingly then, the word Fart has become synonymous with being vulgar. It is no wonder then that we consider the actual act as one of the most socially faux parric activities that we can unwittingly deliver.
So what do you do?
For me personally, it became such an issue that irritated an already delicate stomach condition, that I happen to have. And since I have addressed some of those concerns by changing my diet, I still find the odd occasion when I need to fart. So now I do.
It's not funny, or rude, it's just necessary for me to be able to avoid further discomfort.
Isn't it about time in this day and age, that we all stopped worrying about a lot, or a little, hot air?
Although, I have to confess to now privately thinking to myself that Kim actually used to star in a show called Windy City rather than the one she did.
Bravo that woman.
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