I only had one roommate in my life.  Well I only had one room mate I wasn’t having sex with in my life, and I didn’t enjoy it. Now here I am at age 41 with three roommates and it is hard living with other people that you can’t use your sexuality to get them to do the dishes.  It’s hard living with strangers. Actually it’s hard for them, I have it easy.  They are amazing, respectful and wonderful people from Uganda, Zimbabwe and Zambia.  One is a nun for goodness sake. I have it easy. It’s them who have it hard, they have to live with me!

Now is a good time to thank our sponsor this week, Wicked Wanda’s in Ottawa. I thank them and apologize in advance for today’s topic! If you don’t like potty humour, move on to one of my many thoughtful posts about feminism or hilarious posts about exercise but today we are talking about my smell.

To backtrack for new readers, in April of this past year I received gastric bypass surgery and have since lost 110 pounds.  Yes, I am awesome. I am exercising everyday and mostly follow a great eating plan, high protein, veggies and light carbs. I have snacks for sure, but minimize them. Then I came here to Antigonish and am eating cafeteria food. There are many healthy choices and most times I stay on path, but the odd day I deviate. They have chocolate pudding by the bucket; I am only one woman!!

Yesterday was a stray day. I don’t beat myself up for it, I work extra hard at the gym, and do my best the next day. I am still losing weight and feeling pretty good. The trouble is my small tummy (it’s now the size of an egg or golf ball) is not used to high amounts of sugar, milk or fat. It gets very angry in fact and loves to tell me so.  Last night it was talking big time. Last night I am pretty sure my stomach and digestive system was holding a union protest.  It was loud, obnoxious and no matter what I did it would not go away.

Farting is not a new thing. We all do it. I live with the fart master at home. Farting around new roommates can be waived off with a “we’re all human” gesture. Last night though, I am sure I put the terror back in my new friends and they may already be on a plane back to Africa.

It started small, a few farts here, a few farts there, and then there were farts everywhere!  When I went to the bathroom, I’d turn the water on to try to hide the noise. It didn’t work. The sound would come out and I’d try to keep it “silent but deadly.” This was also a fail.  There was one fart that lasted 70 seconds. It just didn’t stop. At the end I had put noxious gas into the air AND wasted water; I was so bad for the environment David Suzuki could do a documentary on me. Another one came out in spurts and created quite a nice beat box beat. The problem is there is SOMEONE IN THE NEXT ROOM being grossed out the entire time.

Then there is my small room. It is a small room.  I remember a story of a man who died after farting in a small room all night and was killed by the gaseous fumes. I was lucky to have a small window, but this does not stop the room from smelling. I walk into the hallway from my room and feel the fresh fartless air ready to engulf me in a big hug, but then I ruin it by farting again.

So living with strangers is hard, but living with a post gastric bypass stranger who made bad choices (pudding) is almost impossible. That’s why I was put with a nun, because Jesus said “blessed by the farters, for they may inherit depends diapers just in case”.  Thanks to my roommates for putting up with me and the smell.  I am sure my farts will be legendary in Africa when they go back home and when I go to visit their towns and villages, a small child will walk up to me and say, “pull my finger”.  Then I know my impact will have been made.

Also floss.

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