Diary of a Misbehaving Body Part: Ep6 – Belly Button – “The Forgotten Flirt”

Dear Diary,

It’s me. The belly button.

And I’ve had enough.

I’ve been quiet long enough, sitting here in the middle of the torso like some obedient ornament while Sue parades other body parts around like celebrities, and what do I get? Crumbs, wax burns, and suffocation by Spanx.

I’m speaking out. Tonight, you hear from the forgotten flirt, the midriff martyr, the literal hole in the plot, the bullseye of her sexy life and i’m tired of being ignored.

My List of Crimes Against Me

Do you know the indignities I’ve suffered? Strap in, darling, because this is going to read like a police report.

Crime #1 – Suffocation by Jeans
High-waist denim. The fashion industry’s prison bars. Sue yanks them up and I’m gasping for air like I’ve been shoved into solitary confinement. Do you know what it feels like to have a brass button digging into your rim for six hours? Let me tell you, it’s torture. Literal torture.

Crime #2 – Spanx Manslaughter
Those slimming knickers? Call them what they are: body-part asphyxiation devices. I get squashed flatter than a pancake at a hen do. There’s no circulation, no dignity, just me screaming “HELP” in muffled polyester.

Crime #3 – Wax Attack
One night Sue thought candle wax was “adventurous.” It dripped onto me like napalm. I blistered. I wailed. She squealed. Not in a sexy way, Sue. Not sexy at all.

Crime #4 – The Crumb Crisis
Biscuit crumbs. Popcorn. Doritos dust and the odd Malteser. I’ve smuggled more snacks than a cinema usher. And does anyone thank me? No. Instead, Sue fishes them out like I’m some sort of disgusting storage pocket.

Crime #5 – Dan’s Reckless Driving
Yes, the vibrator. He’s supposed to stick to the motorway, but no. Sometimes he swerves off course and rumbles across me like a joyrider. Do I complain? Yes. Do I secretly like it? Also yes. But still, boundaries, Dan.

Nights of Crime and Neglect

I’ve seen things, diary. Dark nights. Dirty nights. Nights that would shock even Sue’s readers.

There was the Champagne Drowning – he poured bubbly down her stomach and I became the glass. Oh, everyone laughed, but I nearly drowned in Moët. You try breathing when your entire cavity is full of fizz.

Then there was the Sticky Toffee Pudding Incident – Sue thought it was hilarious to balance a spoonful of pudding in me to “free up her hands.” It slid down my side like a crime scene. I still have’t recovered form caramel trauma.

And don’t get me started on the Hen Night Glitter Disaster. To this day, I sparkle like a Vegas showgirl every time Sue sweats. You should try being a middle-aged belly button twinkling at Lidl checkout. “Oh the looks.”

I’ve seen more crime scenes than CSI.

Forgotten in the Bedroom

What really burns me up? The lack of respect during sex.

The thighs get rubbed. The boobs get licked and even the neck gets worshipped like some shrine. And me? The navel, the sensitive pit of temptation? Nothing, i’m completely bypassed. Like a bus stop no one uses.

Newsflash: I’m sensitive. All I want is one evening where a lover kisses me, swirls a tongue around me, maybe blows gently across me. That’s it!  You’ll have Sue squirming like she’s got ants in her knickers. But does anyone remember that? No. I’m the erogenous zone no one RSVPs to.  I don’t need to be the star every night. But at least put me in the bloody script!

Instead, I’m the warm-up act no one claps for.

“Confession: my belly button has a mind of its own, and right now it’s begging for your attention. The only cure? Clicking on one of my links. Don’t leave it hanging 🤭. I’ve already caught it trying to wink at you… sneaky little thing.”

My Demands

Enough is enough. From this day forward, I demand, yes demand:

1. No More High-Waist Jeans – Let me breathe. Mid-rise or nothing, it’s non negotiable.

2. Spanx Amnesty – Burn them. Have a ritual. Invite the neighbours and make it a festival.

3. Crop Tops Every Friday – Let me see daylight once a week or i’m sure I will start growing mushrooms.

4. Sexy Foreplay Clause – At least once a month, I want champagne fizz, whipped cream, or tequila shots poured into me. Non-negotiable.

5. Belly Button Piercing Fund – You promised me a jewel but Sue chickened out back in 2004…. I’m still waiting.

Belly Button Fantasies

Don’t roll your eyes – I get fantasies too. And let me tell you, my fantasies are dirtier than Sue’s search history. And mine go like this:

The lights are low. A lover traces their lips down Sue’s stomach, stopping at me. They tease me. They worship me and then they pour a line of salt across me, slam tequila, then suck lime off Sue’s lips. I’m tingling. She’s gasping. The whole night is mine.

And you know what? If I don’t get this fantasy soon, I’m filing for body-part divorce. Let the appendix adopt me.

But until that day comes, I remain furious, under appreciated, and plotting my revenge.

Sue Interrupts

Alright, it’s me, Sue. My belly button has staged a coup and hijacked my diary entry. And, annoyingly, he’s got a point.

I have neglected him. I have abused him with jeans, flattened him with Spanx, drowned him in champagne, and yes, balanced pudding in him that one time (it was hands-free eating – don’t judge).

Maybe I do owe him more. Maybe he’s not just lint storage. Maybe he is – as he so melodramatically puts it – the forgotten flirt.

Who knew my belly button was this dramatic?

Final Thoughts

So that’s Ep6: Belly Button – The Forgotten Flirt. Bitter, dramatic, demanding… and yes, I admit it, he’s also right.

Readers, when you strip tonight, don’t just fondle the usual suspects. Give your belly button a little love and attention. Tease it. Kiss it. Pour something bubbly in it and make it the star for once or you could end up like me, with an angry little flirt to deal with.

Because trust me – ignored belly buttons don’t stay silent forever. They write entire diary entries, they keep crime files, and they will shame you publicly.

Love,
Belly Button (The Angry One)

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