I woke up in a very good, albeit slightly hungover mood still reeling from last night’s events.  Today was part IV of Andria’s Dental Saga– which is the part of the story where I actually meet my dentist for the first time instead of spending more time with Erin the anxious hygienist-in-training, or the rather hilarious girl who took my x-rays last week.

My plan was, to go get the tooth re-filled, beg off of work for the afternoon citing numb face to watch Jurassic Park II and read this fascinating book The Fattening of America (about the economics of obesity– yes, I should do homework instead, yes, it’s a lot like Fast Food Nation), then shift my focus to eye doctors instead of dentists since I have a hard time reading the power-point in class. Instead I got a different tooth filled and now have yet another appointment for next Wednesday when I will be having a root canal.

Root Canal.

The two scariest words in all of dentistry are happening to me in one week.  Also, it turns out that root canals cost as much as some cars, so there goes my dinner plans for tomorrow night (sorry Joe), my tickets to The Nutcracker (sorry Culture Friend), and my plans to turn on the heat (sorry Watson and any potential visitors I may have had).

I’m feeling very “woe is me” right now, and very much like one of those hard-working folks Obama talks about just struggling to break even.  I brush my teeth at least three times a day, I chew sugar-free gum exclusively, I take a calcium supplement daily, and I’ve started flossing, I actually do everything you’re supposed to do to keep your teeth healthy and intact except visiting the dentist regularly.

I could just let it go, but then my tooth would break and eventually fall out.  I’d be the girl with two masters degrees and a missing tooth.  I have very few vanities, but I’m not going to have a gaping hole in my mouth– that’s non-negotiable.

Go to the dentist, all of you.