Sometimes you need gentle reminders to be thankful for what
you already have; no matter how small, no matter how inconsequential it may
seem, it doesn’t hurt to be thankful. Like I always say to the young ‘uns, the
first step is to notice; for if you don’t notice it in the first place, there can
be no second step. The first step is to notice; even if it’s as small as a
belly button.
It’s been a hard couple of days. Stomach’s been acting up.
After multiple visits to the lavatory throughout days and sleepless nights;
fluids spewing out of my body from up and down, I was ready to plop down and
give up on life. The acid had moved beyond just in my stomach, and I could feel
it burning the exits they were passing through like ants through a sugar bowl.
My face looked like it could scare the life out of an un-dead zombie, I smelt
like ginger cream, and I was wearing the loosest pair of pants I could easily
slip out of in the event of a desperate emergency. Definitely not a sight
anyone would love to see.
I spent the morning at work curled on the seats of the
meeting room trying to get a bit of comfort for my stomach, and maybe some shut
eye so that hopefully I wouldn’t turn into teacher-zilla later that evening. I
woke up, spent the next two hours staring at my books and papers helplessly
feeling acids churning and bubbling inside my poor tummy. I tried rubbing some
more ginger cream to make the bubbles go away. I hugged my tummy to make it
just a little warmer. At the risk of looking like a pregnant lady, I rubbed and
held my tummy close, praying for the nasty bubbles to go away. But they just
sang to me a hymn and sent some fire ants down my intestines. Oh no! It was
time for another trip to the loo.
I was tired. I didn’t have enough fluids in my body. I was
tired of being tired, I was tired of walking to the toilet, I was tired of
pulling down my pants, and I was most certainly tired of squatting. I was just
tired. And in these moments of miserable “tiredness”, we tend to forget to be
thankful. Well, it’s kinda hard to be thankful when fire ants are plopping out of
you like the ceramic bowl was full of sugar and they were racing after it. I
was tired. I was too tired to squat and I was too tired to stand back up. But I
had to. I had no intention of staying inside the tiled walls, so I stood up.
I faltered for a moment; that’s the lack of fluids getting
the best of me. I touched the wall for balance, and then reached down to pull
up my pants. Eased the waistband around my acidic tummy, over my belly------------WHERE’S
MY BELLY BUTTON???????
It was gone! It was supposed to be there but it wasn’t! Did
I never have one? Noooooo. I definitely had a belly button this morning, and my
mind raced back to my childhood of fond memories where I specifically remember
having a belly button. I always liked mine. It was a particularly nice belly
button shape. Not too deep that it looked into the abyss, and not too shallow
to make a pathetic excuse for having a belly button, and most certainly not one
of those that protrude like a doorknob to your belly. Point is, it was a very
nice looking belly button, and now it was gone. How could this happen? Did I
drop it? Could the ginger cream have caused it to disappear? Damn you, ginger
cream! How was I going to live my life without having a belly button? My life
would have been a lie! How could I walk this earth knowing that inside,
underneath all my layers, I had no belly button. Oh God, forgive me for I have
sinned, please return to me my belly button in its original shape and form and
I promise to take better care of it.
My heart raced, I searched my entire abdomen, my palm and
fingers racing through to my back and back to my front. Could it have moved to
my back? Do people lose their belly buttons as they grow older? I’m very sure
that my grandmother still has hers. I lifted up my shirt, fearful of what I
might see, or rather, what I might not find. I forced my eyes to look down. Take a small peek. Eyes slowly open. Bated breath. It was
there. Same shape, it even seemed to be smiling at me. Hello, belly button. Nice to see you. Hello, person. Nice to know you
missed me. It was there. My heart slowed down, eventually to a normal rate.
It was there. I touched it again just to be sure. It was there. One more time,
just to be sure. It was there. I love you, belly button. I love all of you,
body parts. I am thankful that I have all of you as part of me.
Ok, you guys can stop touching your own belly buttons there.
People are going to start asking questions if you keep doing that.
Oh, and sorry, ginger cream. It wasn't your fault after all.
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