the squeaky bean


So, I’m sitting on my bed checking my emails and the most god-awful smell envelops the room . . .

Its just me and the cat

no noise, no inkling of the impending nasal assault, nothing

I looked at Teddie (the cat), his little face all screwed up in a mixture of pain, disgust and pure confusion. My little sweet boy has never been known to let go of the occasional kitty fart, which made me wonder . . .

Has it happened? Have I reached that dreaded point in pregnancy where you loose all control over bodily functions?

Am I a walking fart bomb waiting to happen???

I didn’t have any gurgling, no internal ruckus, no rumbling in the jungle, I didn’t feel a single thing. Did this happen without my knowledge completely?? Have I lost all connection to my bumhole? Have my guts turned against me?

We’ve all seen it take place in the odd rom-com where the heavily pregnant woman farts and clears the room of all living things, followed by the token “the baby farted” excuse. Ahhhh, Hollywood.

Please god don’t let me be that woman!

Uncontrollable farts (and my belly button turning into an outie, don’t laugh, its a serious fear I’m dealing with) are literally the two most horrifying pregnancy related thoughts that have crossed my mind since discovering I was going to be a mama. Honestly, what could be more embarrassing??

I don’t want to be the stinky one 😦

For now I’m just sticking to ‘it was the cat’ and giving myself the benefit of the doubt, to be honest I guess we won’t ever really know if whom smelt it had indeed dealt it, but we can be 100% sure that the silent ones are the deadliest.


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