This was a thought I had in the bath last night, rather than on the toilet.
As I lay in the bath looking down at my belly (flat as an ironing board of course) I happened to spot some ‘fluff’ poking out from inside my belly button (a few cat hairs, some dust, perhaps the odd cake crumb). Once I’d spotted it I couldn’t stop looking at it. It screamed at me ‘come and get me out!’ I screamed back ‘not on your nelly, belly!’
The problem is that I have a bit of a thing about belly buttons. I can’t touch them. I can’t let anyone near my own. I can’t get anywhere near anyone else’s or my own. I certainly can’t ferret around in them. I don’t think I have what could be classed as a ‘phobia’ about them (omphalophobia) as seeing belly buttons doesn’t render me anxious and nauseous (balloons have that effect on me) but I really don’t like them at all.
The World Wide Web gives advice on how to clean and care for your belly button. I can’t read this page without feeling just a little bit revolted.
My belly button has only been clean and free of fluff three times in my life, once for each of my children as pregnancy causes the belly button to pop out. It is now nearly five years since the last time I had a clean belly button. So since I am too scared to ferret around in there to clean it I need to have another baby. It’s the only way.