Lavendar Farts

My mother was a true Genteel Southern Belle.  
Resplendent in feminine virtues, the epitiome 
of old fashioned virtuous victorian breeding. 
Since opposites attract...she was of course 
destined to mate with a redneck who thought 
coffee tables were meant to keep muddy boots 
off the floor and sitting with your hand down
your pants scratching your nards was a sign of 

Poor Momma for all her delicate sensibilities 
could handle the cussin, even the obscene burping 
that ensued in he man contests during half time 
as my dad and brothers bonded over monday night 
football, but there was one thing that she 
absolutely could not and would not back down about.  
Something that disgusted her so badly that she 
had to take affirmative action to prevent it at 
all cost.

She hated farts.

When we were little bitty one of my brothers mimicking 
our macho father would wait until we were in church, 
during prayer when there was a hush over the entire 
congregation and rip the loudest stankiest fart he 
could muster up.  You knew he did it on purpose 
cause his face turned all red as he huffed and 
puffed and strained hard enough to blow out the stained glass 

Momma was mortified.  Yanking him non too gently off 
of his perch on the backless pew and all but running 
him down the aisle to the bathroom where she stood 
ten shades of red fuming over her ill-mannered man 
child's behavior while he was forced to sit on the 
toilet to make sure he was "wind" 

At home Daddy and the boys had contests to see who 
could grunt the loudest.  I grew up thinking the male 
half of the species were spawned from apes which my 
siblings all mimicked. Like my father they all 
stripped down to a white t shirt and matching fruit 
of the looms laying in various lazy postures glued to
the boob tube as Daddy reffered to it watching 
everything from The Dallas Cowboys to Star Trek while 
I was raised to be the silently obedient serving wench 
a role my mother felt was fitting for a little girl, with all 
those men to take care.

The men in our family felt that everything you could 
scratch, pick overexpell and emit an interesting sound from was 
hilarious, often teasing my mother who varied between shades of
pink and green the moment she was summoned to the room for an other 
beer or to turn the channel. (women in our family were 
the first human remotes)

She silently did their bidding as requested, loving 
each of them despite their atrocious manners.  But 
she drew the line at farts.  The minutes the air 
became tainted with the fowl stench of "Windies" as
she so daintily labeled them, she would run to the 
bathroom where she kept a lifetime supply of Lavender 
Poopouri and was back in a flash, coating the room with 
her scent to overt the offensive odors.

Have you ever smelled a lavender fart?

My mother was the most beautiful woman in the world,  
blonde, with huge blue green eyes that spoke volumes 
about her emotions...a cute button nose that was 
equally sensitive, she was curved in all the places 
other women go to plastic surgeans to emulate.  She 
took great pride in being a lady at all times.  No 
matter what the activity, whether she was sewing, 
cooking, cleaning the toilet or shopping, my mother  
was wearing a dress, heels, her make up perfect and 
hair coiffed.  Her nails and even toenails were 
painted a delicate shade of pink and you couldnt 
believe this feminine creatures ever did housework.

But she worked harder than most women, ever the 
perfectionist.  She drummed in to her children what 
manners were and how to act like a lady and gentlemen.  
Unfortunately the boys weren't listening.  My dad
made fun of my mother even though he adored her. 
Telling her that if she didn't let out all that hot 
air one of these days she was going to explode.

Momma told us to go to the bathroom at the sign of 
a gas crisis.  She would stand in the hall tapping 
her foot impatiently with all of us lined up if 
even one of us cut wind, forcing all of us to take 
our turn expelling the offensive air whether we 
needed to or not.

What was the funniest part of this was that for all 
her complaining about this one "natural" event she 
told us constantly, "Take it to the bathroom," She 
followed her own advice.  Every nite at precisely 
8pm my mother took her turn in the reading room.   
My dad and all of us kids would stand giggling
outside the door just to be entertained. 

This well mannered uptight LADY while shushing us over
dinner, remind us to chewwith our mouths closed, forcing us to 
be quiet in church, who kept the doors closed at night
so we didn't hear Daddy snoring, this soft spoken 
barely raised her voice above a whisper shy woman let
her rip behind closed doors.

She didn't care who heard either!  She held it all in 
all day long and this was her time to let it all
out... :)

We rolled in the hall as she expelled long streams of 
bodily fluids.  Panting, huffing, puffing, grunting, 
groaning and farting so loudly.. pfft.. 
pllfttttttttttttttttttttttttttt... plop.... 
plftttttttt... flush...

We could have set our watches by her bodily functions.  
She flushed the toilet at least every thirty seconds.  
I don't know if it was to cover her sound effect or if 
her turds were just that long and imposing.   But the 
funniest part was when how loudly she farted.  It went 
on forever, like a balloon screaming as it losing air 
flying uncontrollably around the room... 

One last flush and she'd hear a floor board creek.  "Get 
away from the door!" she screamed.

Daddy would guffaw which further infuriated her and the 
boys would snicker.  

"Hey Momma, I thought you hated 
farting!" Daddy would tease.  Through the thin doors 
you'd hear her pulling up her bloomers.  

"Shut up!  I'm in the bathroom!" 

Even as shy as I was, I'd giggle and we'd make a mad dash 
for the living room out of the reach of her wooden spoon 
as she opened the door humiliated and needing retribution.  
But not before she lit the inevitable match..

The only thing that stinks worse than Lavendar Farts...

Is the smell of Sulfur Shit...

2 comments on “Lavendar Farts

  1. Hey there! I’ve been following your blog for some time now and finally got the bravery to go ahead and give you a shout out from Austin Texas! Just wanted to tell you keep up the great job!

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