It was my turn to get my teeth cleaned.
I love these kind of appointments.
You know, where I am alone.
A L O N E...
While I'm in the waiting room,
I read the latest gossip rags
that I would never buy,
but secretly devour.
So the dental hygenist came out and called me,
and I was ready for my turn.
The one thing I find awkward is
the obvious:
trying to carry on a conversation
while someone is digging the gunk
outta my teeth with a pick axe.
The conversation is forever being interrupted
by the cleaning,
which is,
I know,
the point of the whole gathering--
but I can be a Chatty Cathy sometimes--
I know, it's hard to believe,
but there you have it.
And the constant scraping
swishing
spitting
sucking
is disruptive at best.
OK OK
so there is a POINT to this
and here it is--
After the hygienist finished up,
I had some time to wait before our
awesome Dr. Rogers could come in and
examine my chiclets;
so she sits me up,
and points out the magazines
for me to choose if I want to,
to pass the time away.
I look over and all there are
are four National Geographics
and one O (for Oprah--the TV celebrity, not our dog).
I half-want to choose the O magazine,
but it's really 15% content and 85% advertisements,
AND truth be told,
reading National Geographic magazine makes me
feel smarter just looking at the pages.
Don't judge.
Aww, g'head, judge away.
So I choose a National Geographic.
Flipping thru the pages
I come across the fantastic photography,
interesting stories about forgotten cultures,
and then,
I stopped skimming when I came to a story
that choked me up...
there I sat in the dental chair,
with tears welling up in my eyes
and a lump in my throat.
tears, people.
in the dentist's office!
And not because I was in pain!
No, because I'm a boob!
Thank goodness for a spark of clarity
that summoned my senses to the present situation--
I heard the dental hygienist coming
and knew Dr. Rogers was with her...
they could not see me in tears,
I told my self:
Suck it up! Dawn. Man, you're such a boob.
And I did.
Until I got to the car,
and then I just let myself feel a little sad
about the story,
and felt a little guilty for the privilege
of having my teeth cleaned.
It's such a luxury, you know that,
right?
Man, I can't take me anywhere.
I shoulda brought the kids.
Is this what happens when you get old?
Weepy n' stuff?
Sheesh.
Dawn aka Momza, is the Mother of 7, Gramza to a Ninja Baby,
Midwife Assistant/Doula, Home Stager, Writer and Convert to the LDS faith. She lives in the Colorado Rockies and blogs at Momza's House.
