This last week has been rather interesting. Putting my body through the trauma of detoxing from gluten has opened up my…eyes…to some strange things.
There are some things I’ve expected, of course. Trying to keep track of dishes and food in the kitchen has been trying. The kids are still learning about kitchen responsibilities, and then you throw separate–everything–into the mix, it cause quite a bit of confusion. Plus, they don’t like kitchen duty, so they do as little as they can get away with and still call it good. Yup, I remember trying that with my mom. It didn’t work out that well for me.
Other things are also expected, like rumbles and whatnot in my tummy. What I didn’t expect was the farting. Ok, I’ve farted before. Who hasn’t? But seriously, these were major farts!
When I was growing up, my mom disliked the word “fart.” She thought it was vulgar and didn’t want me to say it, so I came up with a different word that passed her approval…bottomburp. I mean, it makes sense, right? It’s a loud noise, similar to a burp, that comes out of your bottom. And we still use it today amongst my family. But let me tell you, what I was doing this last week were not simply bottomburps.
First, there was the noise. It was loud and obnoxious. I mean, there was no way it was not going to make any noise. I even surprised my husband a couple of times, and he (due to a different kind of tummy issue) is the king of farts in our house. I’m not sure he quite knew what to think about it. And the smell! Oh, my word! My body has never made that odor before! I don’t even know how to describe it. I might have burned my nose hairs.
It’s funny. It really is. My husband and I have laughed so hard over this. And I tell you what, that was good for me. It kind of brought me out of my funk a little bit. I do hope, though, that it doesn’t happen while I’m at work.