The horrible, beach.
The bikinis, speedos.
OH! The hairy ones are the worst!
I have nothing against a persons body, nothing. But when I see that belly button, just…. there, I can’t help but shudder.
EWW! And the outies? You could poke an eye out with those things!
So, my mother decides to take me to the beach. I’m five, it’s before the…. the accident.
My friends and I are running around, my friend, Derek, has a…. an… an outie…. uhhh…
And he falls, and lands on me.
AND HIS BELLY BUTTON JABS ME IN THE GODDAMN EYE
Jump 25 years later, my wife (with whom I have a son, who… has an outie…), who now knows to wear pasties over her belly button, wants to go to the beach.
Despite my shrieks of disapprovement, she threatens to leave me.
I decide that my Omphalophobia should not get in the way of my marriage.
I’m playing with my son.
He wants down, I go in to blow on his tummy, he likes that.
AND HIS BELLY BUTTON JABS ME IN THE GODDAMN EYE.
Omphalophobia wins. No more wife, I’m done.