I suppose it depends on how quickly you feel the need to vacate the confined space you've scented with flatulence.

On the other hand, if you eat an extremely high-fiber diet, you will lose weight —and you will also fart like you’re getting paid by the toot.

I once heard some hairdresser at my salon expounding confidently to a clinet that she should not drink carbonated water because the body “thinks the bubbles are calories” and would cause her to gain weight.

Ooh, obscure but not -that- obscure. I like it.

If you could lose weight by farting, every single one of my uncles would look like the Machinist.

Haha! You know that smelling salts and fainting couches were basically created for people with my genetic disorder, right?

You would have made a dashingly dramatic lady in the 18th century though. Fetch the smelling salts and the sofa!

Two drunks are staggering down an alley.

Hey hey hey now. Hey now. Be nice.

...And that was the last time I saw my mother!

I once had an obligatory winter concert thing in middle school. It was in the evening, and all the other 7th grade girls were wearing their first little black dresses. Some of them even got to wear their first pairs of black high-heels.

WTF.

“I have had 5 kids and I am not as fat as you” my mom to me at the first xmas I brought my husband to. She then attempted to make out with my husband in the bathroom and when he rebuffed her, asked her boyfriend to kick his ass. She was not drunk.

Oh man, my mother would only buy me those kind of brands too (she has a debilitating Macy’s addiction, previously Filene’s before they closed up shop). One time she and I were going on a school trip to Italy and she planned my wardrobe down to each half-hour excursion. I was dressed like a middle aged housewife,…

I feel this so hard. My mom worshipped my sister, and I was constantly reminded that nothing was flattering on me, but she was the gorgeous one. Which I was never allowed to forget. And so much dowdy clothing, omg.

I think my sister has you all beat.

My mom did a similar number on me by making me shop in the grown-up ladies’ section of Sears. I was tall, so that stuff fit me, but god, everything I owned was mustard yellow or olive green, and aged me about 30 years.

“She looks like a clown’s whore.”