Aging makes me mad. I’m sure there are more eloquent and descriptive terms for adequately capturing the life cycle, but for now - mad it is.
I started the day believing I had a cavity, but after an afternoon trip to the dentist, a lovely – slightly skittish man, I’ve been informed cavities are more common in the young; a woman of MY AGE is likely suffering from maturing gums. (Good thing his hands were out of my mouth by that point or he’d be minus a few digits.)
Maturing gums? What the BLEEP is that about?
So there I sat, a pink bibbed exam chair hostage, listening as Dr. Skittish extolled the virtues of fine bristle brushes and extra vitamins for my budding geriatric mouth,(did I mention I’m 42?), and I flashback to the scary oral hygiene posters hanging in my childhood dentist office. You know the ones I’m talking about, the Pirate-lost-at-sea-with-only-tar-and-rocks-for-food pictures? Hated those – gave me nightmares after every check-up!
Does Jack Sparrow syndrome start with maturing gums?
Wallowing in dental self-pity – my inner voice (IV) chimed in. “Listen you tool, have some perspective! You are healthy, happy and relatively sane. So what if your chompers need a little spa visit now and again; we’re talking gums, not cemetery plots! And believe me – your mouth is far from mature – did you hear yourself during that last Yankees/Sox game? There's better language in a prison yard! Now suck it up, listen to the nice doctor and be thankful all that’s falling apart are your gums. Have candy for dinner – you’ll feel better.”
IV had a point.
Post-lecture I took a calming breath, forced a smile (amazed my feeble gums could still support teeth), and accepted the sensitive gum toothpaste and extra soft brush with an open mind.
Tonight – I brush with the maturity of prescription toothpaste, and the youthfulness of a Sponge Bob toothbrush! (Hey –the bristles are soft!)