Farting In Front of the Priest

Filed Under Secrets |

I know this is 25 secrets and I’m sure I have that many, if not more, but the FIRST secret should be really important, shouldn’t it? I mean who’s gonna be interested in your other secrets if the first secret is boring?

Nobody would call me boring I don’t think. There are lots of other words they’d call me like old, round, short, sparkly, rich, interesting, informed.. ok they wouldn’t call me rich. I was just trying to see how that would look in print. It looks pretty good to me. Maybe I should work on getting rich but I probably won’t.

Ok, drum roll please. My first secret is that I farted in front of the parish priest when I was 11. We all know that women don’t fart (at least in front of another person). At 11, girls don’t admit that they fart at all - ever!

The story goes like this. Every year in our parish, one of the local priests visited every household that belonged to the local Catholic church. They did this for a few reasons but my dad said it was only to get “the pledge”. They never told you when they were coming, they just turned up on your doorstep.

Well, the day in question my parents were arguing back and forth. I don’t think it was serious but it went on much of the day one summer Saturday. My mother was outside watering her favorite yellow roses and my father came out and she turned the hose on him! He was so not happy. He didn’t say anything but turned and went back into the house.

A few minutes later, and just as the priest, Father LaVoie, was pulling into the driveway, my father opened the upstairs window and dumped a bucket of water on my mother’s head. You can only imagine what everyone did. All three kids were screaming with laughter. My father was chuckling and my mother (who had NOT seen the priest drive up) started cursing my father in French.

My mother turned around (still yelling) and saw the priest. She was in a white shirt, all wet and nearly died of embarrassment. My mother would not watch a wet t-shirt contest much less appear in one anywhere. It wasn’t a t-shirt but a white shirt is a white shirt and you could see her nipples through that shirt!

Father LaVoie did the only thing he could.. he laughed. He laughed a big belly laugh and suggested that my mother change while he had a chat to the kids and dad.

Now THIS is where the BAD THING happened.

We all trudged into the house and were standing in the entry hallway as my father came down the stairs to greet the priest. Father LaVoie was a lovely guy, even if he was a priest. I have never understood why priests have to be celibate but that’s another story.

He asked my sister how she was doing on her violin and asked my brother how he was doing in baseball and he said, “Secrettia, how are your grades this year? I know last year you were at the top of your class.” At 11 I was easily embarrassed and I hesitated and during this huge pocket of quiet before I answered I let the biggest fart any kid could possibly create. Instead of politely saying, “excuse me.” I said, “that WASN’T me!”

My brother and sister roared with laughter and my father just smiled with a look that told me nobody was buying that excuse.

Now normally this wouldn’t be a life defining moment for anyone, but for me it was. For the rest of my life and I’m not young by any means, I have been confronted every time I see my brother or my sister about farting in front of the priest. Nobody talks about my mother with her hair all wet and flashing her tits to the priest, oh no.. it’s always gotta be about me farting in front of the priest.

It wasn’t me and I still don’t fart.


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