Your honor, I plead unfortunate flatulence


(image via pixabay)

(image via pixabay)

I came across this story the other day (you may have heard of it) about an opera singer who is suing the government after an episiotomy at an Army hospital left her incontinent and suffering from excessive flatulence. She can no longer perform onstage because those damn mics pick up everything.

I feel for this woman in so many ways. For one, episiotomies sound like a son of a bitch. It’s one of the pluses of the c-section:

“What’s that? You’d like to slice me from vag to anus? You know what, here — pass me the scalpel. I’m just gonna go ahead and cut open my stomach and pull the baby out myself; it’ll be more comfortable this way. And I’ll be able to poop sooner.”

And second, I too have dealt with embarrassing social flatulence. In my case, it is brought on by yoga.

The first time I realized I had a high yoga-to-fart ratio was when I was a teenager. A friend and I tried doing one of her mom’s yoga tapes in her basement. You can imagine how embarrassed I was when I loudly expelled some air with every movement. I’m sure she said something, and I’m sure I came up with an elaborate lie about why it was happening, but I can’t remember what it was. I probably told her I had some kind of horrible gastrointestinal disease. I was dramatic like that.

Oh, pardon me. (image via

Oh, pardon me.
(image via

The next time I tempted fate was when I first moved to Seattle and decided to attend a real-as-shit-serious yoga class. These people were not fucking around — they were old, they had weird smells, and they had lots of hair. Everywhere. I pooted a few times here and there during the class, but it wasn’t too noticeable, I told myself. Then we did headstands. And then we rolled down out of those headstands.

You guys. Oh, you guys. It was as if every molecule of gas in my body had been perched right outside the gates, yelling “Hold…HOLD!” until I rolled my back down to the floor, at which point their leader said, “NOW, MEN! IT’S YOUR ONLY CHANCE!” (Also, my farts are, in fact, made up of tiny Scottish armies if that helps you get the tone right in your head.)

The other people in the class, who were much more grown up than I will ever be, said nothing. It was like it never happened. Except that it so totally did. I left that class and never went back. There are some first impressions you can never recover from.

So farting opera lady, I feel your pain. If I had anyone to sue, well, I wouldn’t because I’m not much of a suer. But if I had anyone to be angry at, I’d be right there with you. Perhaps the best offense is an awesome offense, and you should go perform an entire opera in what I can only imagine are their tight, cramped little offices. I will accompany you on the recorder, and request encores while attempting Raven pose.


Author: admin

Meredith likes to write the funny at her blog, Pile of Babies (


  1. I feel her pain, and yours.

    I was in the bath this morning when my 4 year old decided to invent a song all about mummy’s farts. I’m so pleased that even when I’m not flatulating my family can find amusement in my wind.
    April recently posted..Planning a Wizard of Oz birthday partyMy Profile

  2. I love the way you think. Just wait till you get older. When farts don’t really escape but while looking for a way out they find a way back in. I pretty much have perfected silent farting, but not from the new and improved travels of my farts. There’s just no controlling that, at least not as I have found yet.

  3. omg – hahahaha – the yoga fart! i always end up next to somebody who farts in yoga class and thank god it’s never been me. but it will someday. i just know it. the first time it happened, it was the monday after super bowl sunday and we’d just discussed how much chili we’d all consumed….when it happened…bbbrrrraaaaapppp! 70 yo hank next to me won that contest.

    i had two c-sections and i’m with you; i’ll take the section over the episiotomy any time. that sounds über nasty.

    the opera singer? that’s just hilarious, god bless her. it ain’t over til the gassy woman farts.
    Linda Roy recently posted..Deport Bieber! ( And Please Take Celine)My Profile

  4. One of my clients is blogging service that blogs news stories. I’ve written too many posts about this poor woman. Everytime I type episiotomy, I cringe.

    Also, this is one reason I’ve never done Yoga. . .
    Sarah recently posted..In which I respond to a potential Facebook stalkerMy Profile

  5. Why do I read your posts while I’m putting my littlest one to bed? It’s one of the dumbest things I do. You’re too funny. It’s ruinous.
    One time I sneezed, coughed, farted and belched all at once. True story. It was like a demon escaping. Very angrily. I was at the library. Nobody thought I was cool.
    Could you imagine your career being ruined because of an episiotomy? That would stink. I bet it stinks. For her. Ya know?

  6. I took yoga in college because I thought there’d be a lot of women in the class. There were, but they were totally into the yoga and the farting and stuff and I can’t even touch my toes if I bend my knees, so there’s that.

    You should embrace your farts. Own them and make them cool. “Yeah, I farted, so what?” Old men are doing it everywhere I go. Just blame one of them, if there’s one close by.
    donofalltrades recently posted..GreaseMy Profile

  7. Good one!

    If think reading about horrible farts is a good past-time, see this blog and the ongoing comments (chickory root seems to be the culprit)

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