Oh god, I don't know how to say this without feeling embarrassed, but I'm one of those women who... um... farts. And quite a bit, to be honest. Like, I could be an Olympic fart champion, if only such a discipline existed.
Sometimes I hold back, especially in public or if I'm with someone I like. It's as if I have a little monster in my belly that wants to get out at all costs. And when I finally set him free... well, let's say he doesn't go unnoticed.
The sound is powerful, like a trumpet announcing the arrival of the king. And the smell... well, it's not really Chanel N°5, that's it. Let's say it's more like a mix of rotten eggs and spoiled cabbage. Delicious, right?
Sometimes I feel guilty, like I'm some kind of gas monster. But then I remember that we are human, and that everyone farts. Even the most elegant and refined women, those who seem to have stepped out of a fashion magazine.
So, here's my confession: I'm a woman who farts. And I'm no longer ashamed of it. In fac

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