The F-art of Flatulence

**The F- art of Flatulence**

Growing up, I had a dad who was absolutely *proud* of every fart he expelled into the atmosphere. If he could have composed an opera of farts, I’m convinced he would’ve conducted it with artistic flair, waving his hands dramatically as each note reverberated through the house. As a teenager and young adult, though, I was often mortified—sometimes downright embarrassed—by the thunderous rumblings emanating from his rear end.

Fast forward to this morning during yoga (a typical serene moment), and as usual, I let one, maybe two, slip out. Then, in a moment of cosmic hilarity, I thought, “Should I write about this?” Just as I had that thought, the universe confirmed it as Verna released one of her own sonic masterpieces into the ether. She was in a particularly interesting pose—some sort of pretzel shape—but nonetheless, her contribution was just as beautifully unrestrained.

Now, let’s rewind to when Verna and I first met. I, being the considerate partner that I am, mentioned early on that I didn’t enjoy the agony of holding in gas. I asked her, very delicately, if it would be okay to let a little air pass now and then in her presence. Her response was the sweetest thing I had ever heard: “Poep maar my engel, poep maar.” Translated to English, it means: “Fart, darling, fart whenever you wish.” I had never felt so heard, so understood, absolutely free to be me.

Little did Verna know, in giving me this freedom, she had unleashed a sleeping giant—years of pent-up gas that had been silenced in previous partnerships. And let me tell you, it felt so freeing to be able to release gas with reckless abandon. Verna, being the refined and well-mannered lady she is, took a few years to join the methane liberation movement. But today, I can proudly say she has earned her place among the ranks of the flatulent free.

And now, having been plant-based for over four years, you can only imagine the fragrant symphony we produce—a bouquet of delicate aromas worthy of the finest perfume houses. Forget Dior, Chanel, or Lancôme. We present our very own creation: *Spinaccoli*. It’s a bold, yet delicate blend of spinach and broccoli, with just a hint of paprika—a signature fragrance from the prestigious House of Spinache.

For those of you on the methane fence: here is a little assistance from Google. *What happens when I keep a fart in?*

“Gas that is not passed will be absorbed by the bloodstream and ultimately breathed out by the lungs,” says Dr. Ligresti. (November 15, 2023)

So, now we know, the gas doesn’t just vanish into thin air. No, it takes the scenic route. Instead of making a grand exit out the back door, it gets reabsorbed into your bloodstream. From there, it makes its way up to your lungs, where—wait for it—you end up *breathing* it out. So, next time you’re in a tight spot, just remember that gas is coming out one way or another. Choose your exit wisely!

Love, my friends, is indeed a many-splendored thing. And being free to be naturally human, in all its aromatic glory, is a truly liberating experience. So, let me ask you: are you free to release your own custom blend of aromas around your loved one?

Blessings on your journey to the freedom of speech (in all its forms)!

Written by: Laresa Perlman