Is navel lint ripe for the picking?

The subject of this post,  Navel Lint, is  courtesy of Nordette. Suggest your own topic for a personalised embarrassment-related post.

Just like lint itself, whether you are disgusted or nonplussed about it depends entirely on the individual (and to a far lesser extent whether you have an ‘outie’).

My interest in lint dates roughly to Dr Karl’s extensive research into the subject, which won him an ig noble prize (for improbable research).

Among other observations, Dr Karl noted that “About 80% of people who have BBL (belly button lint) also have a Snail Trail of hair leading up from their pubic hair to their belly button.”

People who have seen me swimming will know that, aside from my penchant for awful bathers, I have a rather hairy chest and belly.

It is so prominent that the plan is to grow, shape and shave the downward forks of my handlebar moustache into parallel lines that descend right to my public region. Whereas common folk have a snail trail, I would have the tram rail.

Needless to say, I am as comfortable with my belly lint as I am with the comfortable underpants that partly contribute to it.

That is not the case for all.

Recently at work I was stretching while scratching my belly in front of my friend. Being the tactile man I am (as opposed to showing tact, which I rarely do), I absent-mindedly rolled the fluff from my belly button between my fingers.

The friend was horrified. For her, lint falls into the same body product category as snot. I was surprised at her reaction: for while lint disgusts her, other items that sicken me, such as pooh, do not.

Indeed, whereas I find pooh hard to handle, she, apparently, does not. Last year, walking home together, she revealed she had once suffered the displeasure of crapping into a blocked toilet at a friend’s house.

To her, the logical course of action was to retrieve a supermarket bag from the kitchen, and somehow place the undesirable item inside it – much like a supermarket cashier must feel about having to bag unpackaged humus.

She then carried this makeshift colostomy bag through the living room in front of some other guests, tra-la-la-lah, and disposed of it in the trash. The rationale was that this would save her the embarrassment of notifying the host.

When she told me this story it left me gagging for air in the street. Call me old fashioned, but just like the sensation of sand between the toes, I’d much prefer to feel lint between the fingers than on the other hand a turd.


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One Response to “Is navel lint ripe for the picking?”

  1. Nordette Says:

    Well played my friend – snaps!

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