I didn’t really plan it but this has turned out to be a week of maintenance on myself. Which has really come just in time because I’ve begun to notice that I’m waking up in the morning looking like Jack Sparrow.
And when I say Jack Sparrow, I don’t mean in the dreamy Johnny Depp from 21 Jump Street kind of way. I mean like a hungover pirate with dreadlocks and permanent dark circles around my eyes. I’m not sure what is happening.
But, pending more research, I’m choosing to believe that the dark circles are from the lasting power of my new mascara and not from being forty years old.
On Monday I woke up to the cruel reality that is a school day after Daylight Savings Time when it’s still dark outside. I packed Caroline’s lunch, helped her get dressed and got her to school on time. Then I came home and drank a cup of coffee which hurt my tooth that had decided to become sensitive to hot and cold over the weekend.
Fortunately, I’d made an appointment with a new dentist for Monday morning at 9:00 in anticipation that my tooth wasn’t going to feel better. So I brushed and flossed because I wanted to make a good first impression and drove to the dentist.
They’d asked me to come in early to fill out new patient paperwork which doesn’t take too long when you don’t have dental insurance. And I came to a crossroads of conscience when I got to the part that asked me when I’d last had my teeth cleaned.
Do I admit that it had been at least three years? Maybe four? And that part of the reason I was at a new dentist was because I was too ashamed to go back to my old dentist and face up to my poor dental hygiene ways?
In my defense, I used to be a faithful twice a year girl. But the trauma from my adult orthodontia and getting four teeth pulled with questionable anesthesia left me scarred and a little reticent to let anyone near my mouth unless they were holding a bag of Oreos.
So I sat in that chair, weighing my options. And then I lied. I lied like a big lying liar. I put that it had been about a year since my last dental visit. Which is technically true if you round up by three years.
I’m just glad that I actually have started flossing every day so I didn’t have to lie twice. Because once? Acceptable. Twice? Probably straight to hell where you’ll spend eternity in a dentist’s chair.
The sweet dental hygienist came in and I told her about my tooth pain. She took x-rays and then called in the dentist for him to take a quick look. He said everything looked good from what he could see, but there was a possibility the tooth could be dying.
Well. That does not sound good.
I asked if we could replace it with a gold one to further my resemblance to Jack Sparrow. I don’t know why he didn’t answer me.
Anyway, the dental hygienist began to clean my teeth and I immediately realized that she either knew I lied about how long it had been since I’d been to the dentist or that I have some kind of condition that causes excessive plaque build up. It was a wonder that she could keep cleaning my teeth without the chair bursting into flames because I was a LIAR, LIAR PANTS ON FIRE.
But, to her credit, she just gently said that my next visit would be better if I came back after six months. And, to MY credit, I was cavity-free. Thus, my record of ONE CAVITY EVER still remains. I wish I could get a trophy. Or maybe a plaque. Get it? Plaque. It’s dental humor.
The sore tooth remains a mystery. It appeared alive and well on the x-rays and the roots are fine. He suggested that I might be clenching my teeth in my sleep. Which is the same diagnosis that many of y’all gave me FOR FREE in the comments. If only you knew how to clean my teeth I could save a fortune.
So he filed it down a little bit to try to readjust my bite and said to give it a week. I’ll keep you posted. It’s all so suspenseful. And possibly a new low that I just wrote over 700 words about my teeth.
Then yesterday I got my hair cut because my hair was out of control. I nearly took to Twitter with my internal bangs/no bangs dilemma, but decided I had no business getting bangs with hot weather on the horizon. That never works out for anyone. I need to have the option to get all my hair off my face and so I opted for long, side-swept shorter pieces that I can still pin back which will keep me from wanting to throw my hair brush at the mirror and cry about the unfairness of life and bad hair decisions.
And this morning I have my annual exam scheduled.
That’s all I’ll say about that.
Who knew being a pirate required so much maintenance?