Anniversaries

Seven years ago this past Monday (the 15th) I had my belly button pierced. Happy anniversary to me and my navel. I didn't get it pierced so I could be sexy or anything. I've never made it a habit to show off my pastey white stomach and I'm not about to start now. I did it for symbolic reasons, to remind myself that I had cut the cord from everything that had kept me safe and secure to that point and that I was a brave new being. I was breaking out of a holding pattern that included lots of self-imposed emotional limitations and about thirty pounds of extra weight, and I wanted something to physically remind me that I wasn't going to take a step back.

I was in Austin at the time. After I got my belly button pierced that Saturday night I went to the Rainbow Cattle Company (the equivalent of the Round Up in Dallas), and I met my friend Susan there. She introduced me to her friends--one of whom was Angela. What an essential piece of metal that little ring turned out to be. It served as an immediate icebreaker--or rather an opportunity to flirt--because my navel was burning at that point and I couldn't help but talk about it. The alcohol had started to numb it, but I could still tell that I had something strange embedded in my belly. Susan and the rest of her friends were out on the dance floor, so that just left Angela and me to strike up a conversation, and the piercing process was the first thing she asked about. Naturally I had to show her my stomach. That was the most skin I had ever shown in the bar. Then over the next hour or so she kept acting like she was going to "accidentally" bump into me. Mmm hmm. Flirt. Then it sort of became her duty to protect me from all drunk passersby who might stumble into me. Eventually we left the bar, exchanged phone numbers, and had our first date the following Friday.

So seven years of belly button love as of the 15th, and seven years of partner love this Sunday the 21st. More about the latter tomorrow.