Susy and I were watching the Olympics in the living room, ensconsed on Becky's beige leather sectional sofa. Feet up on the coffee table, taking it easy. I don't eat red meat, bbq'd or otherwise, and Susy is a very competitive person, so, we glued our eyes to the 52" plasma screen on the wall.
The women's marathon was on. Did you watch it? Their belly's were not only flat to the point that ribs stuck out, but the skin was as smooth as a baby's butt.
I kept thinking something was wrong with the picture. It was a group of women in bikinis running in sync, grabbing water bottles, tossing them aside, never missing a step, everything the same.
"They look really weird," I said, finally.
"They-don't-have-any-belly-buttons," Susy said.
"Oh my gosh," I gushed. "You're right. Yuk. What happened to them?"
"Has to be the pixels," Susy said. "It has to be. Since the screen is so big, the pixels must be larger than their belly buttons."
We continued to watch. Other party folk wandered in. One or the other of us pointed out the belly button omission. Pretty soon we were all huddled around the sofa, entranced.
"Oh look," someone shouted. "When there is a close-up you can see them. You can see their belly buttons. They do have belly buttons. It is the pixels."
Others agreed. We all laughed. Then we laughed some more. This was without alcohol, mind you. I don't know why it was without alcohol. It just was.
The birthday girl was loving it. Her husband was loving it that she was happy once again. After the day he'd been through when she thought no one remembered, well, this was a real belly laugh.
"I tell my students," one of the guests who is a pre-school teacher said, "not to pick at their belly button because it holds the butt in place."
I swear, in the most matter-of-fact tone, Susy replied. "I guess that's why they call it a belly butt-on."
Now everybody lost it, hooting with laughter, like we were on our umpteenth martini. I couldn't stop laughing. The more I laughed, the more my husband laughed and so on and so on. The birthday party was capped off, not with a champagne birthday toast or a night cap, not a single drink.
Just a lot of laughter about missing belly buttons.
How totally unsophisticated. Does this mean we are getting old? Or, are we just a goofy bunch? Whatever, we did have a really great time. My husband and I got home so late that my dog left a surprise on the hallway rug.
