Spare a thought for an old Fart

One of the evils of old age is flatulence.  (medically diagnosed from being fair,fat and forty(+))

Unfortunately the inconvenience of this problem is heightened by the expectation that, if a woman enters a room that I occupy, then I must continuously apologise for my misfortune.

At least the woman can go back out and escape. But it’s not the smell that causes the offence, it’s the sound. Women can sneak them out. How? Perhaps their extra padding muffles the sound, in which case, I may find surcease, as I age and my bum muscles become more lax.

Meantime, I’m stuck with  continuous apologising.

I’m also stuck with the problem of the discomfort and, sometimes, pain as the gases build up.

I’m stuck with irritation of my anus, caused by the repeated vibrations.

I’m stuck with a constant apprehension that the next one may not be gas only.

I’m stuck with the angst of not knowing the cause or the cure. Is it gut bacteria? Is it the prescribed Statins, as one friend suggested? Am I eating too much veg/roughage?

Forget Cancer. Forget Flu and the Common Cold. Plough some research funds into this problem, which may be a source of huge amusement to teenage boys, but is a curse for older men.



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