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November 26, 2007

That Fart Smelled Like Dog Food

A Codependent Collegian Guest Editorial
By Maggie Sinclair
Smith College Class of 2010


Sinclair: About to Spew from the Righteous Fumes


Jamie, I’m glad that we are strong, compassionate lesbian couple, and are brave enough to share our deepest thoughts and feelings with each another.

But honey, the fart you just cut at our weekly Campus Pride meeting smells like dog food, and I might just puke all over my hoo-ha.

Even though I’m a bit of a prissy girl, I’ll be the first to defend any lesbian’s right to not wear a bra, forego shaving, or even conform to gendered notions of attire. But you just farting like that in a room full of casual acquaintances—after eating God knows what all morning—has absolutely nothing to do with being gay. It is straight up nasty, and were I not still gagging from its sour stench, would probably ask if you ate a big-ass bowl of puppy chow for lunch.

Go ahead and munch that grape as if nothing has happened. After all, it’s not like your cute little dyke butt didn’t just emit an SBD nastier than a Doberman with a belly full of bad bologna and heartworm pills. We can all just sit here and banter about next month’s social event even though half of us are breathing through our shirtsleeves.

Jamie, I thought we had something special, and last night’s romp in the shower was one of the most sensual experiences of my young life. But the thought of seeing you naked—now that I know the true toxic fortitude of your corduroy-hugging bum—may put our next finger-blasting session into serious jeopardy.

So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going out in the hall to queef like a civilized person.

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