My husband and I had gone out a few weeks ago to dinner. It was one of
those, ” I have got to get out of this house” nights. Since our evening out
began as more of a fleeing the scene then a carefully orchestrated evening
out, we had no idea where we were going. We are committed to supporting
local businesses and so we settled on a non-chain Chinese restaurant. We were greeted by an eight- year-old hostess-yes you read that correctly- who took us to our table in an empty dining room. We enjoyed a quiet, unexceptional meal except for the occasional duet performed by a man at another table and myself as we both sang along, far to loudly, to the hits of the 70s and 80s playing through the speakers. I was in need of a night of reckless abandon and also my ears were clogged from the typical, fall, sinus problems that plague many a Cincinnatian. That was my excuse, I have no idea why he was singing so loud.
Bellies full, we all exited our karaoke haven at the same time and
discussed, who did sing that one song? As he and I began to hum the words,
our counterparts grabbed hold of our respective hands and led us into our
vehicles as if gently ushering us into a padded wagon. Hey, some weeks are
just long ones. David and I began to sing songs and reminisce down memory lane. And that’s when it happened. The mother of all burps. It just simply slid out as a reached to hit a note. It was as if all the gas my body could hold, was building up to rush from my digestive system through my esophagus and out of my mouth to replace the words of my song with a deafening belch.
David looked and me and very calmly asked, ” What would happen if you didn’t do that?”
” Do what?”
” If you didn’t allow that sound to come out of your mouth?”
I was a bit incredulous at this point, ” Oh. You mean the burp? I’m not sure
I follow.”
“Well you do that often and I just wondered if it doesn’t feel good or
something? I mean what would happen if you didn’t let it out?”
I was trying to decide if he was sincere or being passive-aggressive and so
I just answered him honestly, ” I have no choice in the matter. It came
without warning. There was no time to batten down the hatches. It was just
there.
“Oh”
Now feeling slightly hurt and wanting to justify myself and reclaim my
desire to be placed in a proper lady category, words tumbled from me, ” I
don’t mean to do. I would stifle them if I could, although my mom told me
Dr. OZ says holding gas in is unhealthy. It just comes out. I don’t know,
gas just leaks out of me. I guess my elasticity is weak all over. You know I
HAVE birthed nine babies for you. I imagine that has wreaked havoc on my
body.”
“I know you have honey and I appreciate it. I just wondered if holding it in
brought you some sort of distress.”
I believe it was my sweet husband’s subtle way of trying to help me find
ways to control my problem with gaseous fumes. But what can a girl do? No
one tells you that you grow older and your body can’t always contain itself.
That sometimes you might burp and “pass gas” simultaneously as if you are
participating in a 21-gun salute.
As I lifted myself off my seat cushion to exit the car, my mouth said, “Well I’ll try harder, it just happens,” but my body had its own idea of a
revolt as my bottom released the toot heard round the world.
Laughing out loud as I can picture this very event and knowing it could be me!
I was hoping there were others out there who could relate! 😉
Whaaaaaaaat? okay, give me a break, husband of hers. Why is it that men can burp and no one thinks anything of it, but when a woman does it it’s deemed “un-lady-like” and frowned upon? I call NOT FAIR! Double standard! And let me tell you what happens if you don’t let it out of your mouth: it eventually comes out the other end! Is that what you’d prefer, husband of hers? Would THAT be more motherly? more wife-like? more dainty? She’s HUMAN. She burps. We moms burp, just like you do. Just like they do. Just like everyone in the world does. Now, I will agree that there’s a time and place when one might hold it in. Church? Yeah, that’s not a good place to let it out. In a business meeting? Certainly not. See, those are the times that you hold it in. Those are the times that you torture yourself out of the need to be “appropriate” and civilized. But in a car with kids and the hubby? No. There’s no need to torture yourself then. Let it out, I say. And be proud.
(I’ve birthed 9 babies, too, and I’m with you on this one, sista!)
Congratulations on also being a mother of nine. I should clarify though, my husband is amazing and if I painted him in any other light in writing a funny post, that’s on me. He listens to me, burp and toot all day long. I think on that particular night he really was just curious and I felt defensive. 🙂