Monday, 27 June 2011

Ode to a bellybar

Since I was 13, I have had my belly button pierced. In fact, I've had it pierced twice in my life. It is a relatively small fact about myself and not a particularly interesting story. However, I have discovered how much a part of me it feels.

At work on Saturday night the ball came off the top of my favourite bellybar, the one I have been wearing religiously for at least five years. I adore it. It's silver with a pink pear drop stone. Simple, sweet. I have a habit of running my hand across my stomach to feel for it, mostly I don't realise I'm doing it. During one my routine, subconscious checks I felt that the ball wasn't there anymore after my shift. Panic stricken, I realised I wouldn't find it at work.

I'm thoroughly gutted. I know it's a minor thing to most people, but I've not been wearing it for a day and a half and I just don't feel like myself. I run my hand across my stomach without realising and it feels wrong. It does not feel like my stomach anymore. For the first time in 7 years I'm not wearing it, and it feels horribly wrong. I did not realise it was such a part of me, that I just considered it to be a part of myself.

Over the years I've lost countless balls on the numerous bellybars I had when I was 13, 14 and 15. Hence why I started to do the whole roll my hand over stomach trick in the first place, it's me checking it and routinely I turn it to make sure it's on securely. But now I only have 2 with me in Bath, my favourite which only ever gets taken out every now and then for me to shower and to give it a clean, and a gold one my mum bought me. I don't like gold jewellery as a rule but I don't mind it. So I'm resorting to putting that one in until a) I find another one I like, b) I get some more balls for them so I can wear my pear drop one again.

Who knew I could be so sentimental about a belly bar.
-A

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