I have written quite a few posts lately about self-esteem.  Mine has always been particularly low, but I’ve made great strides recently on improving my self-confidence.  I have accepted that I am the only one holding me back, and I need to work diligently at getting out of my way.  My biggest issue still is my self-image.  I’ve never liked my body, and it’s been a topic of much frustration and torment my entire life.  As young as I can remember I was picked on, and through my teenage years it just got worse, culminating when a dance instructor handed me extra shells for my Hula costume to cover my belly.  I was called “fat” by teachers, doctors, family members, and I was sure my friends were talking about my looks behind my back.  I had no boyfriends or girlfriends, and I didn’t socialize outside of my immediate circle.  Hubby once threatened to stop telling me I was pretty or sexy if I continued to insist I was fat and ugly.

I’ve been talking about getting my belly button pierced for at least five years.  I kept telling myself I’d do it as soon as I lost enough weight that I felt I deserved to have a pretty belly button.  About two months ago, when the height of summer hit, I realized that certain skirts and tops occasionally let my belly button peek through, and it didn’t look terrible.  For the first time in my life I was comfortable with how I looked.  I also decided to get pierced.  It was sparkly, and it was blue.

Unfortunately, right after I decided to get pierced  I decided to take a trip down the Schuylkill River.  While this was a wonderful experience for my spirit, it was not such a wonderful experience for the new hole in my body.  It got angrily infected, and it took us a week of hydrogen peroxide and incessant cleaning to calm it down.  This weakened the skin, which in turn decided to flake off like baklava.  Yesterday I noticed that too much skin had been lost.  My piercing was  being held in by nothing more than a cuticle.  Today it was gone, and I am left with a skin claw in my navel where my bar should be.

I’m extremely sad about losing my piercing.  I loved it.  I loved how it made me look, even if very few people actually saw it.  I loved how it made me feel to look at it.  It made me feel beautiful and decorated.  It made me smile.

I hope to get it redone once the skin in that area heals and goes back to normal.  I still aim to get myself healthier and lose weight, but I no longer feel grotesque or uncomfortable in my own skin, and that’s a huge leap for me.  Never again will I let anyone call me fat.  I am happy with who I am, and I can thank that little blue sparkly barbel, wherever in the garden or bed it may have fallen.

Go now, know you’re beautiful!