Last week I saw a young woman with a flat, tan tummy wearing a cropped top.
As I observed her exposed tummy, I reflected on why my tummy is not exposed.
A long time ago my stomach, too, was flat and tan, but in 1988 the last weeks of pregnancy sent stretch marks like lightning bolts across that fruited plain.
It was ’99 or maybe 2000 when I had my first abdominal surgery. The scar runs eight inches north to south dividing my belly neatly in two.
As part of cancer treatment in 2016, an ostomy joined the stretch marks and eight-inch scar decorating my abdomen. The ostomy sits left of center, just below my navel and is covered by a four-by six-inch flesh-colored bag.
In 2021 gall bladder surgery added a four-scar dot pattern to this amazing canvas.
Typically, laparoscopic gall bladder surgery leaves three small marks. I have those and one more from the burn I got when the cauterizing gun misfired during surgery. The burn left an inch-long scar on my rib cage.
The large, long, billowy tops I often wear cover the “Pillsbury dough roll” my stomach creates when I sit down. (Or stand up, for that matter.)
Along with billowy tops, I’ve learned jackets, long sweaters and vests also provide extra layers of tummy coverage.
So, young women wearing cropped tops, “every body” tells a story. As the years pass, perhaps your stories will be made more interesting by babies, surgeries, accidents, or gravity.
Until then, go ahead and flaunt it.
But the rest of us will stick with large, long, tummy-covering tops and smile when you walk by.