The belly button or tummy button: a part also known as the navel. The latter being a word I only use to describe oranges.
The belly button begins as the umbilical cord- the ultimate lifeline between mother and fetus in the womb through which nutrients and blood are circulated. After birth, the remainder of the cord simply turns black and falls off (gross) and what is left is no longer a functional body part, aside from inadmissible, yet inevitable lint storage.
My 18 month old niece is able to point out her belly button, and if you aren’t careful she will lift your shirt and reveal a not so young and cute, and perhaps slightly furrier version.
When I was a young “skinny b!tch”, my belly button was almost flush with my abdomen rather than indented. My sister once rattled my chains for this and I never understood why having an “innie” or an “outie” had any relevancy. . . until my sister got her belly button pierced. I slowly came to the realization that the belly button had some apparent functional sex appeal. A sexy, colorful jewel encrusted chunk of metal that was once a bunch of shirt lint.
Now that I’m finely aged, I get it. Belly buttons are not at all sexy and they serve no purpose. Additionally, it’s not funny when someone puts their finger in there by accident or by 18-month-old curiosity. It feels weird, like someone is touching your spine from the inside.
My belly is getting HUGE (in a skinny b!tch kind of way). Not only does my tailbone hurt, because I’m sure the baby’s head is the size of the moon, and I can feel my uterus stretching and contracting, but my belly button is dangerously close to becoming an “outie”. This could be the end of the world. The only “outie” I can imagine myself being OK with is of the car variety (Audi).
Simply put: Outies are “out” and innies are “in”.