I do not fart in front of my husband.
And that may be a weird way to start out a blog post, but so be it. We are not going to discuss my husband’s gas habits. But I just avoid it if at all possible. I mean, I’m HUMAN for Pete’s sake, so once in a while one slips out. But it embarrasses me horribly because I am apparently quite prudish when it comes to farting.
I mean, I can barely even write the word “fart” without cringing. (You can imagine that these few paragraphs are KILLING me.) It was one of those words I wasn’t allowed to use as a kid. Right up there with “pee” and “poop” because we had to use the correct terms – urinate and bowel movement and flatulence, in case you were wondering.
All of those words embarrass me horribly, as well. I can’t stand them. Add those to my list of Most Hated Words Ever, along with “coitus” and “mucus.”
We also couldn’t say “shut up,” but that was a different issue.
Anyway, along with not saying the word “fart,” my family didn’t ever really fart in front of each other. I don’t remember giggling about it with my brother, or teasing my father about it, or anything along those lines.
So the topic of farting – especially doing so in PUBLIC ah mah gah – makes me terrifically uncomfortable.
And the reason I am talking about this thing I hate so much is because one of the highlights of our Awesome Two Week Vacation was a Spa Day! During which we each got a massage.
And massages – besides being uber relaxing – have immense potential for humiliation.
I was, in fact, thinking of all the different humiliating things that could occur whilst being massaged, and farting is right at the top of the list.
I mean, it’s just you and a stranger alone in a room. A very small room that is quiet except for some rain forest sounds. And the masseuse is rubbing your back and all your muscles are relaxing… and so are your innards.
By the way? Your face is planted in that little face donut. So should you rip one, you can’t even, um, assess what the, ahem, scent damage is.
If you’re the masseuse… How do you keep a straight face? How do you not barf all over your client?
(Side Note: I NEVER FAIL to get mascara all over that little face donut. Then I leave the massage looking loopy from all the relaxation and my eyes are all racoony from being smushed into the face donut. Which usually leaves a visible line across my forehead as well. People must think I’m an escapee from the local psychiatric hospital.)
Now, I’m a seasoned expert of Embarrassing Things Happening Whilst Getting Massaged. Let me list them for you.
Incident #1: I had a terrible cold. In the middle of the massage, my nose decided to impersonate a faucet and began dripping on the floor below the face donut. I was so embarrassed, I just let it happen. Luckily, the masseuse had to go answer a phone call (Side Note: Answering a phone call mid-massage is not Proper Massage Behavior. Nor is it relaxing.) so I hopped off the table, blew my nose, cleaned up the snot puddle, and climbed back under the sheet before she got back.
Incident #2: In the midst of the massage, I got a tickle in my throat. The kind that gets worse if you clear your throat or cough or swallow or breathe. So I was trying not to breathe or swallow – while still trying to enjoy the expensive massage my mother in law had gotten me for a wedding gift – and the tickle was getting worse and worse. I cleared my throat a little, and it got worse. And then I coughed. And that was it, folks. I couldn’t stop coughing. Here I was, face down, the poor masseur trying to do his job, while I’m hacking away. So I sat up to try to get the cough under control and try to ask him for water, and totally flashed him. I’m talking full-on boobage, people. Needless to say, he bolted out of the room to “search for water” before I could even gather the sheet around my chest.
Incident #3: I was in the Czech Republic and visiting a spa. Where the proprietor didn’t speak English (and my Czech is limited to ordering water and saying hello and goodbye). I got a spa treatment that involved these weird pneumatic sleeves that would compress my legs. (Don’t ask.) Anyway, the sleeves were plastic and didn’t slide up on my legs very well, so the proprietor had to help. And she inadvertently got a view of the Lady Bits. I could plainly see the disgust on her face. But then again, that was the same expression she’d been modeling since I walked into the spa…
(Moral: Do not ever offer to massage me, unless you want to reeeeeaaallllly get to know me.)
Now, I’m sure there are other, even more embarrassing things that can happen while you’re on the massage table. Like vomiting. Or having an unexpected visit from Your Monthly Lady Friend. Or… worse things that are Too Unspeakably Horrible to Mention.
But I’m going to guess that massage therapists have Seen It All. At least, that’s what I tell myself. (DO NOT disabuse me of this notion, Internet!)
Now, I hope I haven’t scared you away from massages. Potential humiliation aside, they are amazing. If you have never had a massage, go book one now. It is worth giving up a month of eating out. And your dignity. I swear.
I swear this is the funniest blog I have ever read, I could not.stop.laughing. Me and my 3 sisters named all our different kinds of farts, just so you know. I know some massage therapists, and yes you’re right, they have seen it all. The worst, apparently, is guys getting.. umm.. happy. The 2nd worst is that they were not embarrassed, and offered money for a little ‘help.’ Security was called.
sorry to post again. that was on a cruise ship, btw.
So…did you fart during this last massage?! Haa, sorry, I had to ask if that’s where you were going with it 🙂 And during my most recent massage I had leg hair as long as my husband’s. I was totally mortified, not realizing it until I was naked and laying on the massage table, but what was I supposed to do at that point? Suck it up. And shove my red, embarrassed face into that doughnut as fast as I could.
We don’t fart in front of each other, either! One of my most humiliating relationship moments when I was standing at the dining table sorting mail and then WHOOPS, WHERE THE F DID THAT COME FROM?! Seriously, I had no idea I even needed to. I’d say it took me a while to live that one down, but since we don’t talk about it, it was quickly “forgotten.”
I’m pretty sure masseuses see my lady bits on a regular basis, you know, when they like switch legs, or when they lift one leg up and shake it a little to loosen it up? HELLO, BITS! So that MUST mean it happens pretty much every day.
I absolutely LOVE massages. It’s my favorite present in the whole wide world.
But I get the thing about being with a stranger. Which is why I’m glad that I have a friend who’s a professional with her own table and can come to me whenever I need one! Speaking of… I really should set up an appointment with her.
You’re making me nervous to ever get one 🙂
Such a funny post! Ahaha OH man. I’ve never gotten a massage, and now I’m kind of scared. My body never fails to embarrass me in awkward situations. I also hate the word f.. fa.. the one you wrote about, I can’t even write it, or any of it’s synonyms. I just hate it! Poop is ok. I could talk about poop all day. Thanks for seriously giving me a good chuckle 🙂
I had to laugh while reading this! I’ve often wondered about the same thing, but thankfully never had it happen.
As for embarrassing massage stories, my last massage with this past winter, and I completely forgot to shave my legs before I went. I was really embarrassed for a few mins, but figured that she must have seen worse before.
My body has a bad habit of passing gas while I’m asleep. The reason I KNOW I’m passing gas while I sleep – I actually wake myself up.
So humiliating.
I am DYING over this because I am totally there with you…
a) don’t fart in front of my significant other… just not a fan and don’t feel like sharing that with him!
b) always worried about what’s going to happen during a massage!! What’s up with that?
I love this post my friend! Love it!
NO farting! I think I could handle this around my boyfriend, but he would probably die. He said the first few weeks of dating was physically painful for him trying to hold it in! I couldn’t torture the poor thing any longer so I let him be free. 🙂
But I think the worst massage I ever had was in Costa Rica where the woman didn’t massage me, but instead lathered me like a roast chicken in lavender oil. I’m talking over and over and over she applied this stuff until I was DRIPPING. Meanwhile she is talking on and on about who knows what, and her dogs are running in and out of the room licking my feet and hands barking madly.
When it was over she said I was free to put my clothes back on.
I was like, “NO WAY LADY. I am dripping in oil. Give me a towel now, or the pooch gets it!”
Ahhhh massages. Aren’t they relaxing?
I actually had a massuesse tell me that it was a compliment if someone farted because it meant they were doing their job well: relaxing you!
Hilarious. I needed a good smile while reading. I have no problem “tooting” around my husby. His are stinky though, so I make him leave the room. And we dump all the time, as in poop. I don’t know, we are totally open with bodily functions. I feel you with the dripping snot, no fun at all. My weirdest experience was at a spa in Russia. And when you are in Russia you use the term spa loosely. Anyway, the masseuse offered to massage my BREASTS for a fee. Um what? I told him no way, that in America men would pay ME to massage my breasts. Which of course I would never be open to, but seriously!