I have an old horse, Mona.
We don’t know her exact horse age (around 33-36 years old). In people years Mona would be somewhere
between 90 and 105. We call her bony Mony because she is skin and bones and
refuses to put on any weight. Mona still
gets around well considering her age.
Occasionally, she might even gallop (really a slow trot) in the
pasture. I was watching her in the pasture today and I
had to laugh when she took off after one of the other horses. Every time Mona’s back legs hit the ground
she backfired. It sounded like she had a
pellet gun strapped to her behind.
As I watched Mona, it reminded me of, well, me! I get out of bed in the morning and the
walking farts practically propel me to the bathroom. It’s not just the farting problem that
plaques old biddies like me and Mona.
Come to think of it, I wonder if anyone has ever done a study on whether
old female horses have bladder control issues?
I’ve never seen Mona laugh, but I bet she’d pee herself if she did! I don’t
think it’s just me that has these problems. Some of my closest friends have admitted that
they are considering buying stock in bladder control products.
No one wants to admit to the farting problem but I know it exists
because I’ve walked behind a group of old people and it sounds like the orchestra
trumpet section warming up. If it’s not
old age, then it must be heredity because my much older sister seems to have
some exhaust issues as well.
Just the other day we were leaving a restaurant when my 250
lb. brother-in-law, John, took a dive off a short step. He
didn’t see the step and went flailing into another table of diners. I cannot find the words to describe the look
of terror on their faces as John was hurling himself headfirst into their
salads. It was a scary scene – to say
the least. John’s fall was broken by a
quick thinking man at the table who attempted to catch him. Luckily, the man was able to maintain some
semblance of control and did not end up under John as he face planted on the
ground. Thankfully, the only thing John
injured was his pride. After assuring
the manager that John wasn’t going to sue the restaurant, we made a discreet
exit.
By the time we got to the sidewalk, my sister, Lorraine, and
I had started to laugh (we just couldn’t help ourselves). My daughter, Lulu, gave me a sharp look and
told me I’d better stop laughing right away.
“Mom!” she
reprimanded, “You know what happens when you laugh too hard!”
Well, as soon as Lulu reminded me of my laughing problem, my
sister started hiccupping which made us all laugh harder. We looked like a bunch of drunks who couldn’t
hold our liquor as we laughed our way to the parking lot. When we reached the parking lot, my sister
started farting. Every laugh and hiccup
was followed by a fart. This, of course,
caused me to laugh even more. I just couldn’t stop myself and, despite
wrapping my legs in knots, I peed my pants.
It was humiliating! There we
stood - Lorraine laughing, farting and hiccupping and me laughing and peeing
while Lulu and John looked desperate to escape the whole scene. They quickly took off for the car leaving Lorraine
and I in the middle of the parking lot unable to move for fear of farting and
peeing even more. Thankfully, no one was
around to witness this humiliation.
John must have felt bad for us because he pulled the car up
and asked if we needed a ride. Lulu had
put plastic over the back seat so I could sit.
Lorraine and I managed to throw ourselves in the car – still
laughing. Lulu looked mortified and John
sarcastically commented that he was glad we all had a good laugh at his
expense.
“Hey, Lulu.” I said, “Do
you think Mona pees herself when she laughs?”
“Mommmmm!” Lulu
rolled her eyes. “You’re embarrassing!”
Maybe I am embarrassing.
Maybe I do have a few plumbing issues.
But, at least I can laugh about it.
I can laugh all I want and fart and pee as much as I want because I have
an AARP card and I’ve done my time. Come
to think of it, Mona and I have a lot in common. I bet if I trotted around the pasture, I’d
sound like a pellet gun too. And,
frankly, I don’t give a damn!
