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My Feminist Navel Piercing

This past Valentine’s Day, I went and got my navel pierced. It’s something I’ve wanted for years, ever since I was thirteen and I saw a pierced bellybutton in person for the first time: it belonged to a girl in my gym class whom I admired and, if I’d been aware of my bisexuality at the time, on whom I would’ve said I had a crush. But I always told myself I would only get it pierced when I “lost enough weight” or “got thin enough”. Now, I am not the world’s fittest person, but I’m healthy enough to climb Mount Fuji and run a couple of miles at a time. My body might never grant me a career in Hollywood or an Olympic medal, but it’s a good body that gets me where I need to go and is mostly pain-free most days, which I’m aware is more than a lot of people get. But I still have a BMI of 29, which is cause enough for loathing in this society.

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