Flatulent But Not Corpulent

Beloved Readers. The Haggis has just concluded its first-ever in-depth investigation of two things you should know about:

Splenda And Farting.

Yes indeedy. I can say, with no small amount of embarrassment, that I had been struggling with a certain gaseous challenge for lo these many weeks, to the point that I was literally turning down social invitations for fear that I would essentially gaseously crap my pants at someone's dinner table. I kid you not. It was AWFUL, and having no dog on which to blame said rank miasma, I decided to experiment with food substitution/avoidance/reduction for a few weeks to try to get my life back. Even my dad, the Crown Prince of The Kingdom of Vaporous Effluvia, said the following to me: "Good God woman! What are you eating?!" THAT'S when I knew I had an issue. When a wee fat Scotsman who insists that farting and burping are "compliments to the chef" (even if he's the one who cooks), thinks you need a medical consult, it's time to get under the hood and see what the H is goin' on.

So I cut out coffee (goodbye Splenda) but continued to drink massive quantities of Diet Coke (welcome back, Splenda). I gave up my beloved Boca Burgers, my no-chicken chicken patties, my chicken sausages, my Zone bars, my microwaved broccoli with cider vinegar added (try it and you'll be hooked). I gave up every single food item, one at a time, to no avail. Then, just by happenstance, I read on some kooky not-to-be-believed site that Splenda caused a reduction in red blood cell counts in lab rats, which of course got my attention tout de suite. So I gave it up cold turkey.

Well, the results are in!

You guessed it. Splenda. It was making me fart like a truck driver after seven days straight of three squares at Stuckeys.

A day and a half without Splenda and my situation cleared up. Then I ran out of Equal (which I know has other issues but at least they don't involve bloatation and fartation), so I used just two Splendas in my coffee that AM. By 3pm, it was Bhopal: Episode Two in my house. Confirmation of the original diagnosis.

So what's my point? Well, if you've seen me lately, it's to tell you that my toddler hasn't actually had a bad stomach lately. If you haven't it's to explain why I didn't come to your dinner/bar mitzvah/housewarming party. Because if I'm gonna clear a room, I want it to be with my "humor" and pseudo-intellect, not my farts.