I have an owie

Complaining about the minor ailment can be a slippery slope. As it is believed of alcoholism, kvetchism may be an inherited disease, and I don't want to tempt fate, especially since I come from a long line of boastful sufferers. I got through a bout of running-induced plantar fasciitis earlier this year without as much as a peep. But I find myself inspired to bitch. An ailment has hit me right in the core. I have a boo-boo in my belly button.

Stunt belly button double used to protect writer's anonymity.

A skin rash of some kind, I attempted ignoring this nuisance. When it persisted I began the application of an over-the-counter cocktail. All things anti were applied to the tummy stump. I used anti-itch, anti-fungal, anti-bacterial and I think I may have tried Anti Em cream too.

She isn't really a relative of mine either.

This ailment hit its forte when I started bleeding from the navel during a run. Today, I had to cancel an appointment with the personal trainer because sweat makes my owie even hurt worser.

Tomorrow I will go to the doctor with some fear in my heart. Does flesh-eating disease begin in an innie? Oh, how I wish my parents had opted for the outie. Aren't belly buttons on grown-ups kind of the same things as nipples on men? Nice decoration, but pretty useless. When useless becomes a nuisance, maybe it's time to do something drastic. No, I'm not talking about impeachment proceedings. Perhaps a referral to a plastic surgeon is in order.