Last night, I was reclined on my bed, reading my Twitter feed on my iPad — I am such a modern gal! — when I felt a weird pricking in my abdomen. My belly button, to be more specific. I lifted my shirt to get a better look, my index finger doing the bulk of the investigating. I felt more pricking and my finger unearthed some crusty gunk. Normally such a discovery would excite me; I am fascinated by the gross things our bodies flake off and have been known to peel my own foot skin and pick at head scabs. But my initial glee was thrown off by, of course, the naval pain and the fact that underneath the crusty bits, my belly button was moist.
I hate the word moist and I resent having to use it to describe a part of my body. I prefer wet, but “wet” implies a certain volume of discernible liquid and that doesn’t apply here. It’s not like my belly button was gushing fluid. It just didn’t feel dry inside. Keep reading »