Sunanda raised her shirt and surveyed her midriff in the mirror. Silently, she contemplated the smooth expanse of her belly. Creamy, vast and unclaimed by childbirth, it was protected territory, only her own. Occasionally, Rashid would lie on it, glancing up at her under-chin, as they whispered into the night, but for the most part, the land that radiated around her belly button was a newly cast map: uncreased, uncracked, studded with the mile markers of freckles, and defined by what it wasn’t rather than what it stood for. The stretch of skin that covered her digestive system, her innards, reaching upward to the diaphragm, plunging downward to the pubic triangle, lived and breathed for itself. It was whole. It was calm. It was unperturbed.
Eyes still pinned on her reflection, she reached for the prosthetic stomach, slipped it under her clothes, and waddled out to stock up on groceries.
Wisdom Wears Neon Pyjamas 
what longing you stir, OJ, in a cratered midriff whose only hope of smooth expansion is an extra serving of spicy pigeon-pea daal. speaking of prosthetics, I need me some spandex pronto.
First thought: navel bacterial colony
Eventually realised that was baloney
The lack of settlement
Shows no be-little-ment
But beware, the falsie could be accused of felony!
Null Pointer: 🙂 That grass, my friend….
Aunty G: Eww!
hey, it’s not easy being green.
Null Pointer: You had me at the Kermit reference. ❤
Poignant!
MomWithaDot: 🙂
I Lurrrve that header pic. 😀 though there ain’t no snow where you or I are.
Happy holidays, darling.
alice:….which is why we sprinkle some on the blog. 😉 Happy, happy holidays!