Breaking wind rather than bread with the new in-laws

MEETING the in-laws can be scary. I've snagged a new squeeze, and a love trip to Sydney this weekend means I'll be doing exactly that.

Lucky I've had a practice run. See, it was only last Friday that I met my sister Jemimah's in-laws for the very first time.

She lives in Perth but was visiting Scott's parents in Airlie Beach.

And the Russells kindly invited me along, too. They are awesome.

Ralph is a larrikin - a big kid who can mix a mean mango daiquiri.

Shona is a sexy Scottish mama who cycles 100km on a Saturday morning.

I think I made an impression on them too.

I definitely let them know pretty early on how comfy I felt around them.

I farted. On the first night. At dinner.

Someone told a joke. I laughed. Super-hard. And out it popped. It was a loud one.

For half an instant, I considered blaming it on the dog, Smudge.

Now, I'm no fancy lady. But I generally wait until after the first meeting to let rip.

To make matters worse, I'd given my sister curry for farting in the car earlier.

Thankfully, the Russells are an understanding bunch.

Shona even gave me a card as I was leaving.

It reads:

"2 rules in life: Never drink on an empty stomach. Never fart in a wet suit."

Wise words.

As one of my new year resolutions, I'm going to try being a lady. At least in front of the parents.



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