When I was a teenager, I was fat, not like I was six months ago, but like on my way. All my friends were getting belly button rings, and cool earrings and tattoos and all I wanted was to fit in. One day, I politely asked my mom if I could get my belly button pierced, but she just gave me a face and didn’t really need to say anything. I knew the answer would be no. Instead of going out to the mall to get my belly button pierced behind my moms back, I decided to go to the jewelery store and buy my own tummy jewels. I came home one night and looked up on my dial up internet how to pierce your own belly button. I got my needle, ring, and alcohol ready! I tried, and tried, but it didn’t work. I was such a chicken. I should have just gone to go see the creepy tattoo man that hits on twelve year olds and have him do it. He never carded anyone. Needless to say, I still have a scar, and it looks pretty funny.
One night I was frustrated because this
friend girl knew got a belly button ring. Trust me, she didn’t need it. Her mother should have given her the same face Ronnie gave me, except her mommy went with her and held her hand through the process. Anyway, when she came over that night and showed me that she got one, I had had enough. How is that fair? How is a fellow plumper allowed to get her belly button pierced, but I’m not? Why couldn’t my mom be as cool? What’s up with that Ronnie? After much consideration, I came to the conclusion that Ronnie was right! Seeing a belly button ring on a fat girl was not a pretty sight. It was like a rhinoceros had eaten a hole in her stomach and then grew a little village on her belly. I can’t really explain it, but whatever it was, was a sight to see, or not.
Anyway, I think when I lose all my weight I’m still going to get one. Just for like a day or so. So I can see what it feels like, and so I can also feel confident wearing it and show it off, and not hide it under my sweater capes.