Forcing the Bloom

Happy, Healthy Mommy Blog

There goes my belly button

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I guess I didn’t need it, but it’s gone.  My belly button does not project out past my tummy, but it’s lost a substantive cavity.  It looks like Cyclops mounted on a T-rex.  I suppose I’ve only used it in the past for catching lint.  There is that scar however, that now protrudes into the universe.  I have a scar at my belly button that serves as a remind of a rebellious time.  I must admit that I was the most un-rebellious college student on the planet, but the one thing I did left a mark.  Figures.  I had to smile when my midwife asked if I pierced belly button.  I believe the thought tantalised her imagination.  Yes, but it was an utter failure!

First of all, belly rings only look good on very skinny people.  Those women with flat stomachs that wear bikinis.  I am, or at least used to be, neither fat nor skinny.  But I had pooch.  I also had a nice layer of flubbed that was very grabable.  A pooch does not lend itself easily to piercings.  Every time I sat down, my belly ring became engulfed in my tummy tube.  This was not a comfortable feeling.  You couldn’t even see the ring unless I stood up and stretched.  Of course, I would never dream of wearing any clothing that would expose my stomach.  I didn’t even own those type of clothes.  Why would I pay for half a shirt?  The piercing eventually became infected, although I was beyond being irritated the moment I got it.  The point, although I would never admit it, was to impress a boy.  A boy who is now my husband.  I don’t think it was the ring that did it for him.  He chuckles now at the scar resting boldly on top of a mountain of baby belly, knowing that my meager attempt at defiance was such a disaster.

My attempts at rebellion remind me of my mother’s attempts at telling jokes.  It’s a hopeless cause from the beginning.  She beings the joke by declaring that she can’t remember the joke very well.  She laughs at the beginning, not end.  She doesn’t actually tell the joke; she explains it.  She also explains that there was a punch line and that it was funny, if she could have remembered it.  The jokes are doomed from the start, just like my attempt at rebellion.

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Author: Adrienne

Attorney and Professional labor and postpartum doula.

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