Toot, toot. When you're over 40, there's not much you can do.

Well, I will tell you this little story so you can have a chuckle. But first, I will preface the story by reminiscing about my mom and how she was always talking about gas. Not just gas. But toots. Farts. Yes, those that slip out only when you're at the Estee Lauder counter? Or buying furniture from Jeannie at Webers? Or in the quiet library? Do you remember mom talking about that? Well, she would laugh hysterically if she had what I experienced last week had happen to her.

I have been attending a Pilates class every Monday night. There is a guy (David) who teaches it. He plays this really relaxing music, much like a yoga class, and turns down the lights. There are about 15 women, all ages, laying on mats throughout the room. Last week the instructor wasn't there, so this young bouncy gal was our sub. She did not turn down the lights as much, so you could see everyone, and she played a nature sounds CD.

We got to going about 6:30 last week. About 5 minutes late, this lady walks in, who has been in class before. I will call her Agnes. Now Agnes is on the rather large side, stick legs with a large mid section, probably in her 60s, big shirt, little black spandex.... You get the picture.

If you know anything about Pilates or Yoga, you know it requires a lot of core strength, and you lift your legs up quite a bit and get into some pretty awkward positions. You know where I'm going with this.

We aren't 10 minutes into class and the bouncy instructor says, "Now, ladies let's lift and squeeze!" And out came this sound like someone's fanny was pinched so tight you couldn't pry it apart with a crow bar. But the air got through Agnes's tight cheeks.

I thought, "OK, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt, poor woman." As those of us who exercise know how it feels... But it didn't stop. Over and over again, her rear end emitted the most stunning of sounds, all the way up the scale from tenor to treble. Loud, tight, quiet, squeaking, intermittent, single blasts.... all amongst the instructor's nature sounds CD. I thought, "Geez she's gonna need a safety wipe!"

Now if it were me, the second time I broke wind, I'd give up the exercises. I wouldn't have the guts to get up and leave. I'd "act" like I was doing the exercises, but would look like a wounded dog. But no way would I cut it again. Not Agnes. She just proceeded to hoist and roll. I did sneak a peak at her, and she looked defeated.

Pretty soon, after about 20 minutes of this symphony, the smell started to drift. Yes, I was right behind Agnes on my mat, with her cannon pointed at me. I had to hold my breath! Then I got to thinking, "What if everyone else thinks it is me?????????" Then I was mortified. But I assured myself there was no way that not one single person didn't hear what was going on and who was the culprit. I think the bouncy teacher was mortified, but she kept going like a trooper! "OK ladies! Let's reach for our toes!" (Rrrrrrrrrr----iiiipppp!!!!!)

Either Agnes found the muscles to hold it in, I'm not sure, but about a 40 minutes into the class, she finally quit tooting.

Tonight, once again, I will attend the Pilates class. David will probably be back. I can only hope Agnes isn't there. But if she is, I'm moving to the other side of the room so not to be associated with Agnes.

One thing is for sure. I won't be eating any chili before I go to class tonight.