Pull My Finger

I grew up in a "pull my finger" kind of household, where farts were (and are) funny. By the time I was 8, I knew better than to actually pull the finger, because those farts usually stink. I work with a bunch of guys and guy farts are funny. And stinky. Well, the funny ones, anyway. But in my mom's house, she doesn't fart. Ever. That's just the way she was raised, I guess. I didn't realize I had picked up on this until I actually had a girl of my own. Who farts. Very, very loudly. She must get it from her dad.

My honey farts machine gun style, and strangely enough, they usually don't stink. Mine are just the opposite, where-in no sound is heard, just an incredible stench that permeates the very air we breath, sometimes for days, choking the life out of the air like The Fog. Uhm. Yeah. Anyway, my daughter must have inherited her "farts" (if such a thing can be inherited) from her father, because she farts just like him. And I laugh at her, just like I laugh at him.

Farts are hilarious. They always make me chuckle, as they do a lot of people I know, and I think it has to do with the faces that other people make. Think about it for a second, don't dismiss this brainiac version of philosophy. How many times have you thought, The look on her face was hilarious! Sometimes the things that we see are 1000 times more funny than what we hear. Or read. And farts are universal - every household on earth probably has an equivilent of "pull my finger" that the dad says, and the kids laugh. But not the mom. That's not universal, because ladies don't fart, right?

So I'm in a quandary. Am I supposed to laugh at my daughter's farts like I laughed at all of my sons' farts? My honey is no help, his parents are conservative, and very similar to mine as far as farts go. While I was pregnant for my daughter, I farted once (and only once) at his parent's house. We were playing cards, and I had gas so bad my stomach hurt. I leeaaaned a little to left and tried to let off the pressure. Unfortunately, (I'll claim due to hormones) there was a decided lack of foresight, because I was sitting on a wooden chair. It was very, very loud, and squeaky. And you guessed it, it made me laugh. And every time I laughed, a little more came out, loudly and squeakily, so I laughed more. I was caught in a never-ending chain reaction of laugh-slash-fart, and it lasted for a while. By the time I was done, we were all laughing, and I was very red-faced. See, farts are funny.

But I don't know about girl farts. I waiver between wanting "Complete Equality" for my girls, but do I want her growing up to be strange like me? I mean, really, most women do not find farts funny, and I waiver between wanting her to be normal (AKA fit-in) and wanting her to be proud of herself, and not ashamed of her normal body functions. Like farts. And orgasms.

So she farts. And I laugh, and remind her to say, "Excuse me!" But am I setting her up for strangeness and ostracism later in life? When is a fart allowed to be just a fart? (and now, instead of excuse me she says exsqueeze me like her dad does. Fucking great!) New rule, no girl farts, ever!