Why women feel shy about snorts, snores, farts and how to respond with confidence

I still remember the exact moment my halo cracked. There are two kinds of women in the world, the ones who snore, and the ones who lie about it. I, unfortunately, belong to the first category and tragically, also to the second especially when I am with an elite group of goddesses and men who think women don't poop.

My downfall came on a flight to Australia. I had boarded with the confidence of a woman who had moisturised, worn oversised sunglasses, and carried a book she had no intention of reading. Somewhere between takeoff and the hot towel service, I slipped into what I thought was a delicate, ladylike nap. What actually happened, as I later discovered from the amused glances of co-passengers, was a full-blown nasal orchestra, complete with snorts that could rival a disgruntled pig at a vegan protest.

The horror wasn’t just the snoring. It was the snorting. That sharp, undignified sound that feels like your soul briefly left your body, tripped, and fell back in.

And that’s when it hit me, why are we, as women, so deeply embarrassed of being human? Why is it that as women, we can conquer boardrooms, run marathons, and birth entire human beings, but heaven forbid we produce a sound that isn’t melodious?

THE GREAT FEMALE SILENCE (EXCEPT WHEN IT ESCAPES)

We don’t just stop at snoring. Oh no. We have a whole list of bodily betrayals we pretend don’t exist like burping, farting, even the occasional rogue snort when laughing too hard. These are treated like scandalous secrets, best buried under polite smiles and mint-flavoured chewing gum.

Growing up, I was subtly trained in the art of “silent existence.” Eat quietly. Laugh softly. Definitely do not burp unless you want to be disowned. And snorting while laughing? That was practically a social death sentence. Somewhere along the way, we internalised that our bodies must function like a well-edited Instagram reel, no bloopers allowed.

Meanwhile, men burp like they’re announcing the arrival of a king. (I feel like entering a side eyed emoji here, but the interface will not support that, and neither will my boss.)

I once watched a group of men at dinner engage in what I can only describe as a competitive burping championship. There were no apologies, no shame, just pride, like they had collectively contributed to the GDP.

Women, on the other hand, excuse themselves, disappear into corners, or worse, hold it in like emotional trauma.

PUBLIC PROOF THAT WE ARE ALL JUST PEOPLE

Let’s not pretend this is all behind closed doors. Even our beloved celebrities have had their gloriously human moments. Remember when Alia Bhatt let out an accidental burp during an interview? The internet reacted like she had just revealed state secrets. The internet, of course, did what it does best, zoomed in, replayed, and judged. But I found it oddly comforting.

Honestly, I found it like a reminder that even people who look like they wake up in soft-focus lighting also have digestive systems.

And then there are those laugh-snorts on talk shows, those uncontrollable bursts where elegance packs its bags and leaves. We’ve all been there. Some of us just don’t have HD cameras documenting it for eternity.

Yet, somewhere in the collective imagination, there exists this mythical creature: The Perfect Woman. She floats, she glides, she smells like jasmine at all times, and most impressively, she apparently does not have a digestive system. Some men, bless their optimistic hearts, seem to believe in this version so deeply that the mere suggestion of a woman using the bathroom is treated like a plot twist in a thriller.

THE MYTH OF THE GODDESS WHO DOESN'T POOP

Somewhere along the way, a curious narrative took root that women are goddesses. Ethereal. Pure. Possibly powered by sunlight and compliments.

Now, don’t get me wrong, we quite enjoy being treated like a goddess. Who wouldn’t? But there seems to be a strange fine print that says goddesses, apparently, do not poop.

I once had a friend confess that her partner refused to believe she ever you know pooped. “You’re too elegant for that,” he said. I nearly choked on my tea. Too elegant? As if our intestines are taking fashion cues.

Don’t get me wrong, being put on a pedestal has its perks. It’s nice to be admired, to be seen as graceful, even goddess-like. But living up there is exhausting. You can’t relax when you’re constantly worried about falling off, especially because of something as trivial as a misplaced burp.

Let me say this clearly, we are happy to be goddesses, but we are also humans with functioning organs. It’s a package deal.

And it’s not just an Indian phenomenon. Speak to women anywhere in the world and you’ll hear the same stories, just with different accents. The pressure to be effortlessly perfect, to be desirable but never real, is a global sisterhood we never signed up for.

Men, on the other hand, have it easy in this department. A loud burp? Applauded. A snore that could rival a chainsaw? “Must be tired, poor guy.” A fart? Often treated as a comedic masterpiece. Somewhere along the evolutionary ladder, they were handed a free pass to be bodily, while we were handed a manual on how to pretend we’re not.

But things are changing, slowly but surely. Every time a woman laughs without covering her mouth, admits she snores, or refuses to be embarrassed by her own biology, we chip away at that unrealistic mould.

As for me, I’ve made peace with my public snoring incident. In fact, I now consider it a badge of honour. If I can fall asleep deeply enough to snore on a flight, it means I’m comfortable in my own skin and possibly very sleep-deprived, but that’s another story.

Some men carry around this invisible checklist of the 'perfect wife.' She is graceful, silent, never raises her voice, and certainly never produces any sound that could be mistaken for a bodily function.

She also, I assume, floats instead of walks and survives on air.

The problem with the perfect wife fantasy is not just that it’s unrealistic, it’s exhausting. For women trying to live up to it, and frankly, for men who might miss out on the joy of being with someone real.

Because real women laugh loudly, snort unexpectedly, burp occasionally, and yes, snore like a chainsaw on a bad day.

I still get embarrassed sometimes. Old habits die hard. But I’ve also started laughing at myself more.

Because the day I stopped pretending to be a flawless goddess and accepted my gloriously imperfect, occasionally snorting self was the day I felt lighter.

Possibly because I stopped holding everything in.

Here are 10 fun, confident, slightly cheeky ways to respond if you accidentally snore, snort, burp, or have any “oops, I’m human” moment in public:

• “Well that was my personality coming out unannounced.”
• “Excuse me, my inner wild animal occasionally checks in.”
• “I like to keep things authentic.”
• “That wasn’t me, that was my alter ego. She’s less refined.”
• “Proof that I’m not AI yet.”
• “Oops. There goes my ‘mysterious and elegant’ image.”
• “If anyone asks, that was a sound effect. I’m very committed to realism.”
• “Ah yes, the soundtrack of being human.”
• “Relax, even goddesses glitch sometimes.”
• “Congratulations, you’ve just witnessed me in my natural habitat.”