Now that I have done this multiple times — now that it’s moved from being a crazy idea in my head to being a crazy idea in my blog — the rush of the plunge fades a bit and I realize what icy waters I’ve jumped into …
And so thoughts about the belly follow.
I’m so used to keeping it covered up. Not just covered, but the fabric has to hang in a certain way, or one of a few acceptable ways. Certainly no skin can show, either in the front or in the back — weirdly, I actually love being naked and am not particularly embarrassed about being totally nude in public, but having a line of belly skin shining out between the hem of my shirt and the waist of my jeans would be horrifying!
What I am realizing is how much I keep it hidden from my own sight. I only look at it from some angles and in some moods. Not very often. When it sneaks into my field of vision and surprises me, I recoil. When someone else posts a photo of me with my belly looking compromising, I panic. I don’t like to be confronted with my belly because I don’t know what to make of it.
And then for some reason I decided to do this 30 day project, and on day 2 I realized: Oh. Wow. This is going to make me look at my belly. And see it.
Is it needless to say that this stirs some wicked discomfort?
Well, I guess that’s the point, or one point anyway. Can’t hide. Gotta look at it. I can’t love it if I don’t know it. And I can’t know it if I can’t get past my own judgment and fear.
Here’s a picture of my belly at night: