Embarrassing Confession Saturday!

I can’t stand it when people touch my belly button. And by that I mean any person, it could be disgraceful Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld or it could be bewitching French gamine Audrey Tautou, I’d still hate it. It’s just an enormously, ridiculously sensitive area for me, but not sensitive in a good way (like the neck), but sensitive in a very bad way (like the eyeball). Even the thought of someone doing it makes me cringe. And, of course, to have an “issue” like this is an invitation for some people: let them in on your deep, dark secret and all of a sudden they’re coming after your navel any chance they get. But they soon learn just how mistaken their little joke was when they’re faced with me screaming like a two-year-old and swatting at them like a demented centenarian who’s just learned that his nursing home is all out of the red jello. I mean it. I really, really, really, really, really don’t like my navel played with.

And this isn’t just some neurotic intimacy issue, either. Sure, I have plenty of those too, but my belly-button problem isn’t on that list. You see, I also don’t like to touch myself in the navel. In fact I can’t stand it and, consequently, almost never do it. If I’m changing my shirt and I see lint in there, well, then there’s just going to be lint in there. I have a tried and true method for removing it, actually. While I’m in the shower, I first attempt to dislodge it by moving my body so that the spray falls onto it at an angle that I’ve determined is ideal for lint-evacuating. I then wait in that position until the lint is flooded away. Occasionally, however, the fuzz in my belly button will be tenacious. The water alone will not be enough to send it swirling down the drain. In these cases, I take my washcloth, close my eyes, and scour that whole general area in the hopes that this will do the trick. Usually, it doesn’t. Usually, it only gets more in there. If this is the case, then I say “screw it” and leave the lint unmolested, in the hopes that it’ll be ready to be washed out the following morning.

I wish I was kidding about all this, but I’m not.

And now you know more about me than you ever wanted to.