Beating The Bean Breeze

Sometimes I just don’t think things through the way I should.  For example, the other day I had beans for lunch… a few hours before going for a massage.

So the masseur is working on my lower back and hamstrings, and I’m thinking, “Uh-oh.  Those beans are kicking in.  What’s the etiquette here?”

I mean, the whole point of a massage is to relax.  Clenching one’s butt cheeks together kinda defeats the purpose.  And having somebody put pressure on the inflated area really doesn’t help, either.

But what do you do?

Just let ‘er rip and pretend nothing happened?  I don’t think so.  Even if I managed to squeak out a silent-but-deadly, there are only two of us in the room.  The masseur knows nothing came out of his ass, so the process of elimination (sorry, couldn’t resist the pun) is fairly simple.  I’d know; he’d know; and each of us would know the other knew.

Or do I make up some polite lie?  “Excuse me, I need to stand up to stretch out for a few minutes.  Could you please leave the room and I’ll let you know when I’m back on the table?”

Seems like a good option at first, but if I really was just stretching and repositioning, it wouldn’t take that long.  What happens when he comes back into the room and his eyes start to water?  Then we’re right back to the painful process of pretending everything is fine while we both quietly asphyxiate and I melt into a puddle of sheer humiliation.

It might be better to get it all out in open (so to speak):  “Sorry, I had beans for lunch and I’ve just now realized the consequences of that.  If you value your hands you’ll take them away from the vicinity of my nether regions right now.  Go stand outside, and I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come back in here.”

But I’m thinking that might make things a little awkward.

The worst part was that it made me think about Chaucer, and trying to suppress both a giggle and a fart nearly did me in.

I know that last sentence has left you wondering ‘WTF?!?’, particularly since I revealed some time ago that I hated all the literary classics.

Thus my mother’s devious brilliance is revealed.  She was a teacher, and she found a foolproof way to interest recalcitrant teenagers in Middle English literature.  She didn’t go on about how Chaucer is considered the father of English literature and the greatest English poet of the Middle Ages. Nope; one day she ever-so-casually mentioned that Chaucer had a dirty mind and wrote poems with farts in them.

Well, hello, “The Canterbury Tales”!

Which brings me full circle:  Lying on the massage table trying not to reenact The Summoner’s Tale and suppressing giggles and farts with equal determination.

Can anybody help me out with the correct etiquette for the situation?

* * *

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59 thoughts on “Beating The Bean Breeze

  1. I’ve missed so much while gone and now I’ve laughed enough for a dozen people. I keep blinking my eyes so I can read (not due to fumes in the room) but they’ve watered so much I can’t see! The commercial was priceless too.
    Just wanted to touch base and check things out, and, to let you know that hubby is on the mend, it seems. He has one more doc to see, a heart surgeon, but we are hoping that the problem can be handled without major surgery . It’s been a chaotic month and a half but hopefully it will smooth out for a bit. We both feel like we’ve been through a shredder.
    I’ve managed to start an Etsy site and working on my WordPress blog. I may have once again lost what sanity I thought I had found! It does almost feel like normal again. Maybe.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. For me it was horseback riding lessons. Trying to sift one out while trotting around the arena. But when you are sitting on a leather saddle… The only hope I had was to do it as far away from the others as possible. And you can’t even blame it on the horse!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Leather saddle – ouch! A perfect setup for maximum… erm… resonance. I think I’d be okay in that situation, though – after being forced to ride a horse at a trot for a while, my whimpers would likely drown out any other sound effects. I never did master the skill of trotting.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Resonance… yeah, that was my thought as well when I was faced with the problem. Trotting is a skill that takes some time and experience to master. The trick is to relax, which perhaps is what started it all.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Chaucer?? Who knew. Certainly not me! I am a personal friend of my massaganists and have talked about such a hypothetical situation. And they (she) agreed that is was only natural. I still try very hard not to fart at her.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Y’all are a hoot! My massage therapist has a fan going all the time, and told me ages ago “don’t worry, farting during massages is normal. It’s just part of the process of your body relaxing and letting go.” I adore my therapist. I do still at least warn her…if she hasn’t put me in a coma.

    I notice that “The Professor” (Some Random Guy) is absent our commentary on this. Whaddup with that? No way he doesn’t fart.

    Liked by 1 person

    • ‘Beans only a supper time’ sounds like a wise policy – I think I’ll adopt that! And those WordPress accounts can be annoying, can’t they? I got tripped up with mine a few times, too, but I think I’ve finally got it settled down. Every time something changes, you learn another ten skills you never wanted to have… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Y’all are cracking me up with these stories! And that commercial! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! So to your original question, Diane, I’ve had this happen to me … Fortunately the massage therapist I see is an incredibly down-to-earth, no-holds-barred kinda woman and after about 15 minutes of cheek-clenching, sweat-inducing fear of flatulence I finally just fessed up: “Look Jennifer. Laugh all you want, I don’t care, but I really REALLY need to fart and it’s probably gonna be loud and possibly smelly and ….” She started howling. “Honey,” she said, “A least you warned me. You wouldn’t believe how many people wait ’til I’m down working on their feet or legs and let go an SBD in my FACE. I’ll just keep working away up here until you’re more comfortable and you just fart to your heart’s content. Just let me up the aromatherapy steam thingy real quick.” Oddly enough, once I relaxed the gas bubble seemed to go away on its own. But now I say honesty really is the best policy!

    Liked by 2 people

      • Periodically we are privileged to be guinea pigs for a local massage therapy class. The potential practitioners are required to do so many hours of, well, pro bono work, for lack of a better term before they can be licensed.

        Yep, freebie massages by people who do their very best work for the ratings we give them. Yep, sucks to be me, y’all. 🙂

        Thus most of my massages have been in a big room with a dozen or so other grateful recipients getting their free massages at the same time. So the warning of, “Yo, Bubba, step back a second and turn up the fan, will ya?” is completely out of the question. Deal with it and press on.

        But I’ve also had some ‘professional’ massages, one on one, in the quiet, dimly lit room with the aromatherapy machine cranked up and the oddly atonal music moaning softly.

        And the pros have all had a little sign sticking out unobtrusively from a little clip-on thingy that’s a comfortable viewing distance below one’s face when lying on the table with one’s head in the padded ring support:

        Please, kindly notify the masseur/masseuse before breaking wind. Thank you very much. Your consideration in this matter is greatly appreciated.

        There. Simple as that. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

        • That’s a very civilized sign, and you made me chuckle about the ‘oddly atonal music’! My massage therapist leaves the lights on and the radio playing rock, but he tends to work with athletes looking for rehab/therapy, not people wanting the whole relaxation experience. But aren’t you the lucky guinea pig! I didn’t realize massage therapy schools did that. Hmmm…

          Liked by 1 person

  6. Oh this is a dilemma. I think if all seemed about to explode that I just wasn’t feeling very well and would have to call the session short. Or possibly that you hated to admit it but you just had to use the washroom. Surely it wouldn’t be the first time this has happened?

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time – he’s probably seen (and heard and smelled) it all! And knowing him, if it happened, he’d just laugh and recount some war stories. But all in all, I’d rather not be one of them. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  7. OH.MY.LORD!!! I have tears from laughing. It brought to mind a memory I thought I’d long ago suppressed. 11th Grade… at the LIBRARY doing a group research project.(Myself and two GUYS!) We are sitting at a wooden table on wooden chairs. I am about to fall over from stomach cramps that are the result of holding in gas. I sat at the table too long. I no longer have the option to walk into the restroom and let ‘er rip! If I move, it’s over. I am sitting ram rod straight and the guys look at me like I’m crazy because I’ve stopped working and have a look of pure horror on my face. Just as they question is voice, “Are you okay?” I loose my battle over the gas and let one go so loud it echoes in the library. I blame the wooden chairs – they had to have amplified the fart. INSTANT tears stream down my face, and I’m staring at two guys whose mouths have hit the table. I got up and took off…to this day I don’t know if it smelled or not. I’m not sure I really ever want to know, either!

    Liked by 4 people

    • OMIGOD!!! I’m laughing hysterically! Poor you – I’m amazed that you didn’t just self-combust on the spot. I can’t imagine anything more devastating for an 11th-grader.

      That happened to a woman in one of my yoga classes, too. The room was silent except for the quiet soothing meditation music when she let one rip. The poor woman never returned to class after that, and I felt sorry about that – as embarrassing as it must have been, it really wasn’t that big a deal. But I guess it was for her!

      Liked by 2 people

      • There’s nothing like trading fart stories. I’ve taken CPR classes pretty regularly throughout my adult life and during one of the more recent renewal classes we met just after an early dinner hour and I had to drive completely across town to get there in the peak of rush hour traffic. I got there just on time with no time to spare for a comfort stop before the class got underway. Oh and Surprise! This time we also had to qualify on using an Automatic External Defribulating Device and for realism’s sake, we’d be on the floor while learning. There was a whole lot of going up and down and with every gross movement I made there was an audible accompanied toot and if I wasn’t careful, further disaster loomed likely. I finally fled to the restroom. Only then did the instructor offer a break to all my fellow students too. Which reminds me that I’m overdue for a refresher class now.


        • LOL! The gym is another place where vigorous activity makes for a garden of auditory and olfactory delights. I learned early: Never hang around where the guys are doing squats. Just don’t. 😉


    • OMG! Bean there :=] In 9th-grade math class. Full of sound and fury indeed. Everyone in the room turned and looked at me as I was almost at the back of the room, but not quite. What’s a girl to do. Me, I turned around too and looked at the last kid in the row- a known dufus. He immediately claimed his actual innocence, but was either too slow or too polite to throw blame to she who richly deserved it. I’m sure I was blushing purple.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Oh, too funny! Thank goodness for the chivalrous (or slow) dufus! My step-mom used to teach 2nd grade, and she said you could always tell who’d farted – the entire class would be looking around and sniffing except for one kid working away feverishly, eyes glued to his/her work. You had a lot of presence of mind to look around for the “guilty” party!

        Liked by 1 person

        • On the flip side to my embarrassment when I was in 11th grade, I taught behaviorally challenged students at the high school level. I remember one day at 5th hour (the hour RIGHT AFTER LUNCH) I was standing in front of the class going over the instructions for their lesson. The room was slowly starting to smell. At first I tried to dismiss it. After all, I’m sitting in a room filled with 8 high school boys, and 2 girls. I didn’t want to say anything in case the culprit was one of the female students…. her life would have ended. However, the smell lingered, and grew in intensity. It was clear we had a multiple repeat offender, and one who needed to use the bathroom ASAP!!!! Finally I stopped with the directions and looked everyone in the eye and said, “Look, it’s obvious someone needs to use the bathroom very badly. Please, do us all a favor and just get up and go. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. We all fart, but please, I have to be in this room for the rest of the day.” The room was dead silent. Finally one of the male students stood up and walked out of the room. After he walked out I went over and lit about 5 candles (yes, I know I’m not supposed to have open flame in the classroom, but teenage boys and BO are a very real problem in high school) and sprayed some Fabreeze!

          Liked by 1 person

        • Call it desperation. I lived with a family where my youngest brother was convinced by his slightly older sister that “Girls don’t fart.” There was daily evidence to the contrary since my parents subjected the whole family to daily devotions and prayer immediately following our evening meal. This involved Dad reading a page or two from the Bible, then everyone would kneel on the floor using your chair to rest elbows on and each person in turn praying out loud. Between this perfect position and the digestion of the largest meal of the day, we were subjected to trying to not giggle through plenty of evidence that everyone farts. Added to the far-from-holy-and-elegant position that happened almost every evening, one of our friends would be cupping their hands around their eyes against the window glass to thoroughly check us out like we were from another planet. The friends knew that they weren’t supposed to interrupt supper, but this wasn’t supper, but it was also clearly not to interrupted either. For those of us that found this ritual no more than an embarrassment and a waste of time, the farts were the icing on the cake.


    • See, I need people like you to tell me how to act like a normal human being. That would’ve been a much better solution! (Except for the fact that it was in the gym and the nearest bathroom was on the other side. I would’ve had to get up, get dressed, and leave the massage room to walk all the way across a large and crowded gym. At that point I might as well have just gone home.)

      Liked by 1 person

  8. Etiquette, schmetiquette! What DID you do? Will you be looking for a new masseur? It is impossible to relax when you are blown up like the Hindenburg. Just be thankful he didn’t have a match!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Bahahaha!!! Now there’s a terrifying visual! I wonder if the fire marshal would rule that ‘arson’ or ‘a gas leak’ when he was investigating the burned-out building afterward?

      And fortunately it turned out to be “full of sound and fury, signifying nothing”. (See, I know some Shakespeare, too. 😉 ) I made it out of there and safely home before the afterburners kicked in.

      Liked by 1 person

  9. Well that’s the first bit of Chaucer I’ve ever read

    I know your pain, working nights there are only two of us in the office, I often try to squeeze one out silently if he leaves the office but as you say it’s obvious who it was.
    We just don’t mention it as we have about 8 hrs of just us in the office

    I think you just have to know each other quite well

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yep, sometimes better than you’d like to. A couple of decades ago I worked with a very polished and professional businesswoman. I went into her office with a question about something and the stink just about knocked me over. It smelled as though she’d just taken a dump under her desk. I still laugh helplessly every time I think about the two of us standing there all dressed up in our sleek business suits, solemnly discussing floor plans and pretending everything was normal while our eyes watered and our nose hairs burned off!

      Liked by 3 people

  10. Personally, I’d probably feign a sudden illness and cancel the rest of the session. But I’m guessing you have more, um, intestinal fortitude than that. So what DID you do? Inquiring minds want to know.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Intestinal fortitude – hahaha!!! Fortunately it was just the early-warning rumblings of the bean breeze, so I got out of there without embarrassing myself. I’ve been going to the same massage therapist for nearly 20 years and he’s more like a friend, so even if I had let one slip we probably would have laughed about it. (But still… *wince*)

      Liked by 3 people

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