Thursday, December 22, 2005
Generational Curses
The Old Testament talks about generational curses...the sins of the father visiting to the fifth generation. I have kept this a secret, but need to release something. I have been hesitant to do so because I fear that those few who love me will remove themselves from my presence. This is perhaps the most honest post I have ever written.
There is something which resides in me. I inherited it from my predecessors. I can't say which one, because I haven't asked her permission. It isn't from my father though. Let me unburden myself.
I fart and burp. Yes, it's true. Oh sure, I've always taught Matthew that women don't fart - they "fluff". But this past year I have found it increasingly difficult to restrain the pressure of air leaving my body. I've almost given in to the inevitability of it, and have lowered my moral standing on it.
Now I laugh at my own farts. Yep. I lay in bed in the morning, let one rip, and then giggle really loud. I enjoy the different tones and sound effects. They appeal to the musician in me. A couple weeks ago while Matthew and I were in the kitchen I couldn't help it. One came out. Matthew looked at me and adamantly said "I hope you're not going to laugh at THAT one." I should have been ashamed, but it made me laugh all the harder that he said it.
I work in an office with about 10 people. Well, I have my own 14x16 foot room, and within that my own cubicle. That means no one can see me unless they come right up to my desk to address me. Yesterday I ate lunch at my desk as usual, and shortly after the forbidden happened. I couldn't stop it. I didn't think about stopping it. A huge burp belted out of me. Then I muttered "oh no, did anyone hear?" I stopped working and listened for any talking or footsteps, but heard none. Phew. I'm not ready for my peers to know this about me yet.
I don't know if posting this is a good thing or not. It's an embarrasment to come out of the closet like this. I'm hoping that confession will break the generational ties. Because, judging by Matthew's farts, the curse follows adoption lineage as well.
There is something which resides in me. I inherited it from my predecessors. I can't say which one, because I haven't asked her permission. It isn't from my father though. Let me unburden myself.
I fart and burp. Yes, it's true. Oh sure, I've always taught Matthew that women don't fart - they "fluff". But this past year I have found it increasingly difficult to restrain the pressure of air leaving my body. I've almost given in to the inevitability of it, and have lowered my moral standing on it.
Now I laugh at my own farts. Yep. I lay in bed in the morning, let one rip, and then giggle really loud. I enjoy the different tones and sound effects. They appeal to the musician in me. A couple weeks ago while Matthew and I were in the kitchen I couldn't help it. One came out. Matthew looked at me and adamantly said "I hope you're not going to laugh at THAT one." I should have been ashamed, but it made me laugh all the harder that he said it.
I work in an office with about 10 people. Well, I have my own 14x16 foot room, and within that my own cubicle. That means no one can see me unless they come right up to my desk to address me. Yesterday I ate lunch at my desk as usual, and shortly after the forbidden happened. I couldn't stop it. I didn't think about stopping it. A huge burp belted out of me. Then I muttered "oh no, did anyone hear?" I stopped working and listened for any talking or footsteps, but heard none. Phew. I'm not ready for my peers to know this about me yet.
I don't know if posting this is a good thing or not. It's an embarrasment to come out of the closet like this. I'm hoping that confession will break the generational ties. Because, judging by Matthew's farts, the curse follows adoption lineage as well.
// posted by Annette @ 8:32 p.m. 