Flatuphobic Confessions

The following are some interesting articles written by flatuphobes and victims of flatuphobes. Hopefully some of these articles will let flatuphobics know they have flatuphobia and take steps to stop it.

This story was emailed to the A.A.F. by a flatuphobe who wishes to remain anonymous. It shows how flatuphobia starts and how it stays with a person all their life.

Anonymous Flatuphobe from Kilsyth

My mocking of the (flatulence) afflicted.  I believe this was sub-conscious
and I think it surfaced after several years in the Royal Australian Navy. I
have seen the damage it can do and the humour it can generate. One of my
compadres (Windy Gayle by name) was severely burnt around the nether regions
after a particularly bad kava drinking session. One night as he sat on the
edge of his bunk in his jocks, he yelled out "hey, watch this fellas",
flicked his Zippo lighter, let rip and the resulting fire caused his nylon
underwear to melt (true story). My how we laughed. The sight of him beating
his rear end and his dangly bits was truly a sight to behold for us
matelots. His application of the burn cream for several weeks afterwards
created a break from the tedium of ship-board life. It was better than the
beer ration each night.

After that, I found that whenever I heard the sound of rattling cheeks, I
burst into laughter. Similar to when one, in the middle of the night, wakes
up and the "strike him roughly centurion" scene from The Life of Brian"
inexplicitly drifts into mind. You just can't get it out of your system.

Gradually over the years the effect waned but never enough to completely
dissipate. I would hear a "blurt" and snicker. I would catch a faint "barp"
and snigger. An actual loud "blarrrt" would awaken the sub-conscious and I
would giggle like a madman. Perhaps it was cruel to those who were the
unfortunate to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous intestines but
little did I care. I was having fun. The more they squeaked and squawked,
the more I obtained vicarious humour.

To see the pained look upon their unfortunate faces reminded me of the look
on Windy's face as he applied the Savlon. Lost, forlorn and oh so hurt.  Hee
Hee Hee.

So much for my story. I suppose over time I will recover. Every day, in
every way, I am getting better. My psychologist believes it is something
Freudian and after a few more psycho-analytical sessions I should be able to
confront it. I dread to think what he has in mind for the averson therapy.

This story was sent in by an American anonymously. It describes the discomfort he felt holding in his flatulence during a flight and having to resort to waiting for other passengers to fart before he could find relief.

Several years ago I frequently traveled on small commuter aircraft (without
on board restrooms,) from Los Angeles CA to a town about 30 minutes to the
north east. Frequently I suffered abdominal discomfort due to the build up
of intestinal gas during these early evening flights, but held release of
said gas in check till I could dash to the restroom upon arrival at
About ten minutes into a relatively bumpy flight one evening, the cabin
suddenly became a tunnel of containment for an outrageously foul smelling
odor. Obvious to all in the crowded cabin, a passenger had silently relieved
themselves of thousands of cubic feet of abdominal gas. Comments such as
"open a window" . . , "where's the gas masks" . . , "who messed their
pants" . . , "whew," where heard coming from fore, center and aft of.
Passenger coughing and gasping were common place. Being I was feeling
elevated levels of gas realted abdominal discomfort at the time, I decided I
no longer needed to wait till I got to the airport restroom to dissapate my
discomfort causing gas. To take containment pressure off my buttocks, I
leaned towards the center aisle as though to look down the cabin, and with
deep concentration manged to silently contribute to the foul odor permeating
the air in the cabin. Whilst in this position I said loud enough to be head
fore and aft, "Would the person who fouled the air in here please leave the
aircraft by the nearest exit." Laughter broke out various versions of "A
hellva an idea" or "Ah-men," were heard. I sat back in my seat feeling
better and joined what had become open conversation of what to do when
confronted with gas pains, at 15,000 feet in a small commuter plane. A
couple of passengers were visibly angered by the gassing they had been
subject to and were verbally nasty. Me? Although I felt the guy or gal that
started it all were uncouth, I had the smug grin of "successfull relief of
discomort" on my face.

This was sent in by an American who wishes to remain anonymous:

Australia's flag is heaps better

Hi Denise, pretty interesting website. It's nice to discover that
someone has finally come forward to raise public sympathy and awareness
on the problem of public farting. I became sensitive to this problem
this past summer. A few months before I was dating a very pretty young
lady who would constantly pass really nasty gas. At that time I would
call tell she was embarrassing the hell out of me and I even called her
names like "smellyass" . She would get really upset. We finally parted
ways because of her gassy problem but deep down I really cared about
her.(Was I a complete ass back then or what?) Then during the summer I
got just what I deserved a taste of my own medicine. Me who thought I
was cool and really buff got the worst humbling case of flatulance that
you could imagine!!! At the gym where I was quite popular with the
girls was now a thing of the past. They saw me coming and would scurry
away. They would giggle and make farting noises behind my back. My
nicknames were "gasmaster" and "pooter". I felt so bad I wanted to cry!
I then remembered how I treated my ex-girlfriend and then learned that
problem farting is no "laughing matter" and that people with it should
be made to feel welcome and not mocked. My farting finally cleared up
but I will never forget what i went through and how it made me a much
more sensitive person. Any way I admire the courage you
have to admit your gas problem publicly in order to let others know they
are not alone. I think its great that you started the AAF to give
flatulators the support, friendship, and confidence they need to live in
our ignorant world. I must admit I also enjoyed your photo
gallery(especially your pic of the day). I liked the playful and sexy
way you posed in all of them. I definately know I'll be checking in each
day to view your new "pic of the day". You seem to be a courageous,
intelligent, very attractive women who enjoys live so the flatulance
shouldn't even matter.

This story was sent in by Rumbi, a student who has a flatulence problem. He is getting a lot of grief from his university tutor because of his flatulence problem and it causing a lot of pain in his life:

Its now been eight months, since I started University. My experience there has been more unpleasant than pleasurable as is expected of first year students. My attendance is quite average, because I miss classes and this is when I am low and  do not feel like going. My social life is limited, no clubbing, visits to the pub, etc.

In my first semester most of the problems I had were with one of my tutors. He would find any excuse to embarrass me in class.  On one particular occasion, we were discussing  various types of accommodation and he mentioned that he chucked out a client at his B&B because he couldn't stand the way he smelt. All the students just stared at him and he was embarrassed because they didn't find it funny. Later he happened to mention that he didn't like dogs because of their smell. He went about telling all his work mates about my problem, and did not even bother to ask what was wrong with me. I met him in the corridors at one time and greeted him, but he totally ignored me and walked away.

Unfortunately for me, I have another module with him this semester and despite the fact that he knows I have been diagnosed with IBS, he keeps on bashing me. During one of his lecturers he fitted in the words 'wind bag,' which had thing to do with the topic. Its on days like this that I cry myself to sleep. Anyway his behaviour this semester hasn't surprised me, I knew he would do something nasty. I will not take another module because this one is necessary for my career, so I guess I have to prepare myself for whatever he throws at me.

Most students do not want to hang around with me, in case other people think they are dirty too, let alone work with me in any group assignments. What really gets them is that I get better grades than they do. I've been called all names under the sun such as smelly cat, farting cow and people burping when I pass, all of which I am used to by now.

Despite all this, my grades have been average, I have three understanding friends and a fantastic marketing tutor. She tells me that I will always be her priority and will support me until I finish.

If you to have got some interesting stories concerning flatuphobia please share them with us and we will put them on this page (anonymously if you want).