I wasn't sure which one I was for the longest time. Today I consider myself an innie, and despite my feelings about outies I think I'd be a proud outie if I was.
See, it first started bothering me when I was about 10. We'd just moved to a new part of town, and around here nearly everyone was an innie and proud of it. Outies had to keep it to themselves, usually only their own families knew, if that! God forbid an outie wanted to enjoy a day out in public with his or her shirt off. If lynching was a common thing down here the outies would be the newest trend in lynchings. My point is that to be a known outie in this part of town, was to have a deathwish.
I was always pretty thin, so the skin on my stomach never really had a chance to grow over my belly button. One day in class I heard some kids talking about how gross Eggbour's belly button was. "It sticks out, and it NEVER COLLECTS ANY LINT!!!!" The other kid's face twisted up with some combination of disgust, horror, and confusion. After the school bell rang somehow Eggbour and the local school bully, Fister Plus, had gotten out earlier than the rest of us, and everyone saw Fister Plus standing over Eggbour who's face had been amalgamated with the ground, leaving a wide pool of blood as evidence.
After going home that day I quietly ran to my room, locked the door, and buried my head in my Yu-gi oh blanket. Was this how outies were treated here? Was this what they were going to do to me if they ever found out? I began to get angry. Angry at my mother and father for creating such a scrawny wretch as myself. Angry at Eggbour for being so f*cking disgusting. Angry at my skin for not growing right. Wait a minute... That was it! The skin! The skin was the gate keeping me out of the heaven that was being an innie!!!
I ran over to my desk, excited as I'd ever been. I eagerly pulled a pencil out of the pencil cup my grandmother had made me for my birthday last year, and accidentally knocked the entire cup over. The handle broke off, but I didn't care, I was going to be normal. I sharpened the pencil as sharp as it could get, using the crayola pencil sharpener that always made the pencils too sharp for writing. The pencil was perfect for what I needed it for though.
I went back to my bed and took my shirt off. "Do I really want to do this?" I thought... Sure beats having your face turned into grits! I took the pencil and pushed down on my belly button as hard as I could. The harder I pushed the less I could stop my lower back from hunching forward. My stomach began to burn, and my sides felt like they were caving in. Just a little harder. I had a headache, and my neck felt dull. All of a sudden the feelings stopped. I felt the pencil break through the skin, and I looked down. There was a huge, bright red circle around my belly button, and only the tip of the pencil went in. I tried to push it in a little more, and it was really easy now that the hole was there, but it moved along the wall of skin rather than in, towards the guts, where it'd make a deeper hole. I think I got that pencil about halfway in until I figured that it wasn't going to work.
So life went on, I always did my very best to hide my bellybutton from the other kids at school, and since no instance ever really arises in elementary school where you'd have to take your shirt off, it was petty easy. In middle school kids stopped talking about each other's physical deformities, instead choosing to focus on how they smelled, or what clothes they wore. I was pretty average in those regards, so I stopped worrying about getting beat up, and I was pretty happy.
I think we were in Ms. Boxfan's room when the letter that spelt my doom came. "Alright kids, take these letters home to your parents and get them signed by friday. If you don't the school won't be allowed to keep you, and you'll have to withdraw to some other school." Falconbrella, the girl who sat in the front of my row asked what they were. "Scolioses check forms. Some doctors are gonna come in and check your spine for irregularities."
Friday came, and I didn't expect it to be as dreadful an ordeal as it was going to be. My class lined up outside the exercise room, and the school officer told us to separate into groups of boys and groups of girls. Hmm. Maybe the male doctors weren't allowed to look at the little girls' boobies. But, my sister has a boy doctor... My head felt cold and numb when I realized we'd all be going in with or shirts off. "Is something wrong?" said Digiacto, one of my friends that I sat with at lunch. Caramelldroog, who was behind me, lifted the collar of my shirt and laughed. "He hasn't any undershirt on!"
"Afraid we're going to see your nipples? lol"
"I bet he's a girl and doesn't want us to know."
"I bet his momma whips him and he doesn't want us to know."
"I bet he's pregnant!"
"I bet he's an outie!"
Running away wouldn't have been an option. The school officer was standing by the exit, and there were a bunch of other administrators: the kind with clipboards, clippy clappy shoes, and very stern voices. We got up to the door, and my shirt was soaked, and I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I wanted to run, or at least for someone to ask me why I was so nervous again, so I could tell them I ate something really spicy at lunch, but no, nobody was even talking to each other anymore, just staring at me.
When our group walked in there were five stools up against the wall. The man in a doctor's coat said "Okay boys, take your shirts off and stand against the wall." ... "Well, if you refuse we can call an officer in here and get them to help you." I realized I was screwed either way, and decided to just take my shirt off. When I did the freedom felt amazing. No longer did I have to hide that I was an outie, that stress was lifted from me. The doctor stumbled back and ran out of the room. Jorgenio whipped his head away and puked on the ground. Mericanieshrecaer yelled "OH GROSS, WHAT THE f*ck IS WRONG WITH YOU. YOU'RE A f*ckING MUTANT." I looked down, proudly upon my bellybutton and saw that there was a little belly fat covering the hole, I wasn't an outie. The doctor came back in with two officers and pointed at me. "Sweet mother of christ," an officer says. "I'm fine! I'm not an outie after all!" I shout with glee. In this moment I am euphoric. I've never been so happy. "Lord almighty." the second officer says as he closes his eyes and starts to stumble away.
The first officer charges at me and just before he hits me he swings to the right and slides on the ground so that he's behind me. The second officer realizes he's on duty and points his gun at me. "Don't move! We're taking you away from here."
"How could someone like that exist. It's inhuman."
"I DON'T KNOW BUT CAN WE JUST GET ON WITH THE EXAMANATION. I'D VERY MUCH LIKE TO LEAVE AND GET BACK TO CLASS AND THEN GO HOME AND THROW UP AND MULL OVER WHETHER I SHOULD TELL MY PARENTS OR WHETHER I SHOULD KEEP THIS HORROR TO MYSELF."
"There will be no examinations today, not without another doctor at least." Says the second officer as he points down to the dcotor, who is laying on the ground with a wide pool of puke around his face. I begin to dance, in celebration of my realization, and the second officer screams, the first is in hysterics so he does not notice, and then I hear a loud pop.
I wake up in a tube that's kind of warm like a reptile's cage. The room around the tube has a dark blueish hue to it, and there's a desk and a file cabinet. A man dressed in a white long sleeve shirt, and a black vest and black pants walks in and examines me. I try to ask him where I am, but I can't open my mouth, and I don't have the energy to make words. I drift off.
When I wake up this time I'm on what looks like a hospital bed. A young nurse who looks a little too tired for her age tells me that I need to awake for this procedure since nobody's ever seen anything like this, and they need to see my reactions to the surgery. Another nurse, a large male with fading chestnut-colored hair, closes his eyes and rubs something like Vaseline on my nipple. A tall man, the same one who looked at me in the tube, uses a scalpel to cut the end of my left nipple off and puts a piece of it into a plastic bag, and then into his vest's pocket. He then moves on to the second nipple and does the same. He hands the second bag to the female nurse and whuispers something to her. She leaves the room. The doctor then pats me on the head and cuts my entire nipple off. All fifteen inches of it.
I am not an outie.