Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Letter to Pumpkin, 8th week, 2nd installment

Baby, it might get a little uncomfortable for you today, a little rough swimming in my bodily juices.

Of course I am not exposing you to record-levels of adrenaline and other fear-induced hormones on purpose, but a teeny weeny voice inside of me insists that it'll only serve you right, considering what you have put me through last night during and after dance class.

No, your mom is not vindictive, my love.

But, for future references: go see your dentist twice a year. No, really. I know they are big mean sadists whose only purpose is to hurt you more than you think is humanely endurable, and who will enjoy your pain immensely, for it is what they feed on, and it is what bury in their backyards at midnight to grow more evil dentists from the dirt, to empower their evil army of dental practicioners that sooner or later will take over the world with their drills and hooks and saliva suckers - but they are a necessary evil. Of course in your first years I will make sure that this is being taken care of and I am fully prepared that you will hate me from the core of your being for it, but I won't always be around to set up doctor's appointments for you and make sure that you observe them. One day you'll be responsible for your own teeth, and when that day comes, listen to what I tell you today:

Don't do what your mother did and refuse to see a dentist for 7 years. 7 years is a very long time, and it is very likely that a lot of pain will be your payoff for this stupidity. Don't let your (quite possibly inherited) panic of dentistry interfere with your health, you'll regret it. Just like I am today. Imagine, I need my own sister, your aunt, to come with me (after she has already called for the appointment for me), so it can be guaranteed that I will not get up and walk out of the waiting room in my panic. The dentist who will see the wreckage in my mouth today labels himself "dentist for the scared". See? I can't even go to a regular, normal dentist that every other normal person would go to. I need the specialist for chicken-shit.

Good for me, however, I can use you as a reason for them not to hurt me today. They probably can't do x-rays on me because of you, and I refuse to have anything stuck into my mouth without being properly anesthesized... and by properly I mean I want to be close to unconscious. Of course they can't do that either with you residing inside of me, so I'll play it cool and tell them to "just look" and walk out of there feeling really accomplished, like I have done something for myself today.

On days like today, you better look to your father as a role model. Your mother is a big wimp.

Please grow healthy teeth,
Mama

1 Comments:

Blogger I'm Just Sayin... said...

OH I'm with you on that one. I didn't go for 6 years and walked out with a root canal and getting my wisdom teeth yanked out :-(

Hannah is afraid of doctors and brushing her teeth. Go figure.

3:04 AM  

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