The fluorescent lights of the supermarket seemed to amplify the flush I could feel rising in my cheeks.
Over the past few months, my digestion had become unpredictable, an orchestra of grumbles and hisses that performed at the most inopportune moments. And of course, today, with the store crowded with people doing their Saturday morning shopping, my intestines had decided to give it their all.
I tried to ignore the growing discomfort, focusing on the labels on the frozen foods. "Gluten-free," "organic," "high in fiber"... the words danced before my eyes as a wave of heat rose up my ...

The fluorescent lights of the supermarket seemed to amplify the flush I could feel rising in my cheeks.
Over the past few months, my digestion had become unpredictable, an orchestra of grumbles and hisses that performed at the most inopportune moments. And of course, today, with the store crowded with people doing their Saturday morning shopping, my intestines had decided to give it their all.
I tried to ignore the growing discomfort, focusing on the labels on the frozen foods. "Gluten-free," "organic," "high in fiber"... the words danced before my eyes as a wave of heat rose up my spine. I knew what was coming.
I clenched my butt, trying to suppress the inevitable, but it was no use. A low, drawn-out sound, like an out-of-tune trombone, broke the silence of the frozen foods aisle. I tensed, my heart pounding.
I stole a glance around.
The wave of shame washed over me. Why was this happening to me? Why did my body have to betray me like this, in the midst of all these people?
I quickly paid and rushed out of the store, eager for fresh air and to escape the curious stares.
But then, a thought crossed my mind. Maybe I wasn’t the only one with this problem. Maybe there was someone else in the store who was fighting their own battle with flatulence. And maybe, just like me, they felt alone and embarrassed.
The thought gave me some comfort. I wasn’t a monster, I was just a person with an embarrassing problem. And maybe, one day, I would learn to live with it, to laugh about it, to stop letting those annoying noises define me.

Le luci fluorescenti del supermercato sembravano amplificare il rossore che sentivo salire alle guance.
Negli ultimi mesi, la mia digestione era diventata imprevedibile, un'orchestra di borbottii e sibili che si esibiva nei momenti meno opportuni. E ovviamente, oggi, con il negozio affollato di gente che faceva la spesa del sabato mattina, il mio intestino aveva deciso di dare il peggio di sé.
Cercai di ignorare il disagio crescente, concentrandomi sulle etichette dei surgelati. "Senza glutine", "biologico", "ricco di fibre"... le parole mi danzavano davanti agli occhi mentre un'ondata di calore mi saliva lungo la schiena. Sapevo cosa stava per succedere.
Strinsi i glutei, cercando di reprimere l'inevitabile, ma fu inutile. Un suono basso e prolungato, simile a un trombone scordato, ruppe il silenzio del reparto surgelati. Mi irrigidii, con il cuore che batteva all'impazzata.
Lanciai un'occhiata furtiva intorno a me.
La vergogna era un'onda che mi travolgeva, calda e soffocante. Perché mi succedeva questo? Perché il mio corpo doveva tradirmi proprio in questo modo, in mezzo a tutta questa gente?
Pagai in fretta e mi precipitai fuori dal negozio, ansiosa di respirare aria fresca e di sfuggire agli sguardi curiosi.
Ma poi, un pensiero mi attraversò la mente. Forse non ero l'unica a soffrire di questo problema. Forse, tra tutta quella gente al supermercato, c'era qualcun altro che stava combattendo la sua personale battaglia contro la flautulenza. E forse, proprio come me, si sentiva solo e imbarazzato.
Questa idea mi diede un po' di conforto. Non ero un mostro, ero solo una persona con un problema imbarazzante. E forse, un giorno, avrei imparato a conviverci, a riderci su, a non lasciarmi più definire da quei rumori.