At Least It's Not Farting

My name is Lucy and I have a problem.

Actually, I have a lot of them. In no particular order:

• I'm short.
  
• Really short.
  
• I have feet so small they only make Hello Kitty shoes for me.
  
• I have a pathological obsession with my blanket, Blankie.
  
• I think I'm funny.
  
• Really funny.
  
• Hahahaha I just thought of a terrible new pun.
  
• I have a short attention span, like my height.
  
• I never remember how to spell deliscious. Deliicius. Oh, fine YUMMY.
  
• I think gargly is a word*.

But the problem I am going to talk about today is my burping.

I burp. A lot. And I do it aloud. In a big, resonating, gargly* way. Now, I am a small lady, as I may have mentioned, and I love to look girly and flowery in dresses and heels. So there I'll be, bopping around LA LA LA and then BBBBAAARRRUUURRPPPPPPPPP!!1!

Oops.

Children flee in terror. Animals bark and/or roar. Old ladies shake their canes.

And I laugh.

Yes, not only do monstrous burps that sound like they ought to come from James Gandolfini escape my red-lipsticked lips, but then I think they're cute and amusing.

THEY'RE NOT, OKAY?

Everyone tells me they're not:

• My husband
  
• My co-coworkers
  
• Random strangers
  
• My cat
  
• Santa
  
• The cast of Battlestar Galactica

But I can't help it! Sometimes I try to stifle them and make the sound stop. But then, other times, they just fall outta me like spray tan oozes off the cast of The Hills. Uncontrollably!

I don't know what to do. Doesn't matter what I eat.

I am Lucy, and I'm a burper. THERE I SAID IT.

Stay tuned for my book "THE ITALIAN RICH GUY'S SHORT YET BURPY SORTA-VIRGIN BRIDE"!

Yeah.