There is something I need to address here. It is an issue that I hadn’t anticipated. Had I been aware of this factor before I got pregnant, I may have rethought my original plan to bring life into this world. But being as it’s a little too late now, I’m trying to learn how to cope. So for anyone who may not know this before getting pregnant – I’m setting out to warn you so that you can make a more well-informed decision.
Now, to first explain – I have a bit of a prejudice. I’m not proud of this prejudice, but at the same time, I am still unable to reverse the effects this prejudice has had on me and my lifestyle choices. It is a disturbing little secret that I try to avoid for the most part. Yet I have to admit, it holds a very firm and solid grasp on my psyche. Perhaps this experience will be the day of reckoning for me, when I will have to come to terms with myself and my beliefs.
What I’m talking about here is the fact that I’m losing my belly button. The skin that covers my stomach area has stretched and stretched so far that it has become unrecognizable to me in color, shape, and texture. The hole that was my belly button is now becoming non-existent. Day by day it is slowly decreasing until soon it will be no longer.
This is devastating for me, as I am an outie-hater. There, I’ve said it. I despise the outie. I think it is a disgusting piece of anatomy, a defect in what should be a pleasing part of a person’s physical appearance. A normal belly button is concave. An outie is an abnormality, a disfigurment, an upset in the natural world.
While I recognize that this physical attribute is no more under our control than the color of our eyes, I cannot help but feel a superiority over those with this abnormal protrusion extending from their stomachs. I try to control this attitude. After taking many classes in sociological research and the effects of discrimination against minorities, I know the harm that can spread due to hatred and ignorance. I don’t blame anyone for their outie, nor do I attribute negative traits to the outie-born person – just to the outie itself. There are people engaging in plastic surgeries to transform their outies to innies. I don’t condone this sort of thing, and I would hope that we could all love our own bodies as they are. Which is why this prejudice I hold shames me so. It is contrary to the beliefs I hold about equality and justice.
However, I cannot deny my sense of impending doom when I stare down at my big, bare belly and the dwindling hole that was once deep and welcoming. Each day it seems to get smaller and smaller, and I fear that soon, it will become the thing which I most despise. How will I face myself as an outie? How can I look at myself, knowing that I, too, am now one of “them”? I fear the day….