Trip To The Dentist

Let me just start off by saying this, this post has nothing to do with dealing with children and difficult situations in the dentist’s office. If that was what you were looking for, I’m sorry to say that you will be sadly disappointed. This is a post about my situation at the dentist’s office this morning.

When I was in grad school I had a professor who would run to work, not shower (that we could tell) and just slip in to other clothes before teaching classes or holding office hours. I will call him “Bobby D”. To compound matters, the graduate fellows had offices directly across the math hallway from the professors. The math hallway was narrow, as it was a not a main corridor, so the distance between offices was minimal. The office I shared with another graduate fellow was directly across the hall from Bobby D’s. My desk was set up so that I could not see in to his office, yet I always knew when he was in and when he had chosen to run in to work. My closest friend in grad school was Irish Twin. Despite having an office on the diagonal from Bobby D’s, Irish Twin often wandered over to my office with her nose wrinkled, shortly after Bobby D had arrived at school.

Well, today I pulled a “Bobby D.” Mind you, I did NOT go to work post run. I did however, put in a quick four miles (on a ridiculously humid day), hop in my car, change my shirt, throw on some deodorant, and head to the dentist. What the heck, I thought. I was only getting my night mouth guard. How long would it take?

Forty minutes. Forty minutes to adjust and readjust that mother, while the only two things running through my mind were Do I stink? I must. How can I not? and I’m going to be Tina Fay in Date Night pulling my night guard out of my mouth at the last minute offering to rally. “Oh… oh, no… We can still fool around.” Will Big Man fulfill the Steve Carell role and let me off the hook with “I will light up your life… next time” or are we just moving in to a new, sadly awkward stage of marriage? Forty minutes in the dentist chair. I’m not even one of those people who hates going to the dentist. I love it. I’ve almost fallen asleep in the dentist’s chair once or twice. This morning, if I wasn’t sweaty from my run, I was sweaty from the awkwardness of sitting there, worrying.

Did I mention yet that my dentist is a runner? My dentist is a runner who has often noticed when I have show up for an appointment in full on running gear and has asked if I have just come from a run. My response has always been “No, no. I’m heading out for a run after this. I would never run before coming here. Gross.” I think I even told him about Bobby D once. Of course, I did. Why wouldn’t I? I would never pull that kind of thing. Oh wait, but I did.

I’d love to blame it on motherhood and not having enough time to squeeze everything in, but really, who am I kidding? My kids are both in school all day. If I work, it’s as a substitute teacher and it’s not every day or even every week. I’ve got plenty of time to myself. Actually, as my kids get older they give me fewer and fewer excuses to use. I really only have myself to blame for the fact that there are more people out there who would never recognize me with straight, dry hair, make-up and normal clothes than without. It’s just that I am that girl who doesn’t give a crap. Unless, of course, I’m going to the dentist office…


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