I know I have written about some pretty crazy things
on here over the past 20-plus years, but I honestly think this one will rank
right up there in the top five, perhaps even the top three.
It all started when I was toweling myself dry after
my bath the other night, and happened to look at myself in the full-length
mirror – something I usually avoid at all costs because at my age, I have to
protect my heart from enduring any sudden shocks. But I’ve lost quite a bit of
weight in the past few months and wanted to check what my body looked like.
I might mention here that my weight loss wasn’t
intentional, it was circumstantial, due to a number of factors. Back in 2022,
when I had Covid, I lost my sense of taste. It has returned only slightly, so
just about everything I eat still tastes like wet cardboard. If I put a lot of salt
on it, it helps a little – but only to the point where everything then tastes like
salty wet cardboard. So a lot of times, I don’t even bother to eat.
Also, I have a lot of food allergies, so my two main
protein sources have always been chicken and eggs…until recently. Thanks to the
bird flu now, I need to strike oil on my property to continue to
afford to buy the chicken and eggs. So I’ve cut back…way back.
As I stared at my body in the mirror, I saw what I’d
anticipated I’d see – saggy skin that looked as if someone had let the air out
of a balloon. That’s the trouble with losing weight when you’re old – the
stretched-out skin stays stretched out and doesn’t snap back the way it once
did…kind of like the waistband on a pair of 10-year-old underpants.
Anyway, something didn’t look right about my body,
which was nothing new, but I could tell something looked weirder than usual. I
couldn’t, however, figure out exactly what it was. After a few minutes of unspeakable torture caused by staring into
the mirror, it finally dawned on me…
My belly button was gone!
I’m totally serious here, no joking. Where the
perfectly round indentation with the tiny mole on it once adorned my torso,
there was nothing but a vast wasteland of skin.
Panicking, I searched every nook and cranny, every wrinkle and fold.
Nothing. No indentation, no mole, nothing. My navel officially
had disappeared.
Of course, I had to rush to Google it to find out if
anyone else had suffered from a similar trauma, or if I should be contacting
Guinness at that moment. I was relieved to see I wasn’t alone…there were other
navel-losing sufferers who were as panicky as I was, asking what would cause
it.
Unfortunately, there weren’t too many explanations.
The first one was obvious – weight gain might cause the navel to be hidden
beneath the fat and therefore go missing. Well, I hadn’t gained, I’d lost, so I
ruled out that one. Then it said an umbilical hernia could cause the navel to
retract. I felt my stomach for lumps or bumps. I felt nothing but flatness. And
finally it said that rapid weight loss could cause the navel to shrink into
oblivion, but it didn’t explain much about it.
At least none of the reasons sounded life-threatening,
which was a relief. But still, losing my navel wasn’t something I could take
lightly. After all, I’d had it since...well, before birth.
My friend Pauline made the mistake of calling me at
that moment, and I immediately blurted out, “I lost my belly button! It’s gone!”
There was silence on her end. Then she asked me to
repeat what I’d just said.
“I’m serious!” I cried. “My belly button is gone! There’s nothing
but blank skin where it used to be!”
She burst out laughing. “You really need help, you know."
“Yes, I need help! Help finding my belly button!”
My late husband always used to shake his head and
say to me, especially after I said or did something strange, “Sometimes I
seriously believe you were beamed down here from another planet.”
Well, if he were here right now, I’m pretty sure
he’d be saying this finally is all the proof he needs to verify his
suspicions.
Alas, I keep checking my stomach to see if there is
any sign of the lost navel making its return. There’s nothing yet. So I’ve been trying
to convince myself I don’t really need it anyway. I mean, it’s not as if I’m planning to get a piercing there or I’m suddenly going to buy a
bikini. And I really don’t miss having it as a collection site for the lint
from my sweatshirt.
Therefore, no one ever will know I have no navel
unless I mention it to them.
Speaking of which, in response to a question one of my friends asked me...no, I won't be hanging up "missing" posters around the neighborhood.
# # #
Sally Breslin is an award-winning syndicated humor columnist who has written regularly for newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is the author of several novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to science-fiction. Contact her at: sillysally@att.net.
