09/26/2009 Ode to my teeth, also, why I went crazy at Express last night
My teeth have turned to mashed potato mush. Growing up, I had teeth of steel. Even after 5 years of braces (my glamour years) I had no cavities. Then two years ago I went to a new dentist for a cleaning. After much head shaking, they led me to a dimly lit room and, with soothing music playing in the background, informed me that I had SEVEN cavities. SEVEN. So many that I would need two visits to get them filled. One by one they brought up my xrays on their fancy screen. Which really wasn't necessary- OK, OK, GOT IT- I HAVE CAVITIES. I SUCK. No need to rub it in my face by pointing out the dreaded plaque burrowing through my enamel with your laser pointer. I will not lie. This kind of demoralized me.
Driving home after that appointment I called several people for moral support. Did this mean I was a bad person? Was I leading my body to an early grave? Screw it, maybe I should just start smoking and injecting illicit drugs to speed things up? Honestly, I don't understand how this has happened. Me with my fancy Sonicare toothbrush. Me with my regular flossing. Me with my love of milk. When I talked to a different dentist about it at my last visit, he gave me some truly half-assed response about how people today are getting more cavities because of our reliance on bottled water. Cool dude, except that I never DRINK bottled water (you think I'd waste my money on bottled water? pshaw! ).
My pride healed somewhat with time. But then last night I returned for another routine cleaning (what moron schedules a teeth cleaning on a Friday night? Oh wait- me) and was informed I need another THREE fillings. They even offered to fill them right then and there. While it was tempting to get this next stage of misery over with, the thought of spending my entire Friday evening with this dentist did not appeal to me one ounce. So I ran out of there (I get to go back next Thursday-yay! ) and instead met my husband at Whole Foods. Friday night was getting even better- first the dentist, then a grocery store! But holy cow has anyone been to the new Whole Foods at North Avenue and Sheffield? The original location for this Whole Foods was closed down a couple of times by the Health Department for a little nuisance they like to call a rat infestation. This new fancy store is something else. First of all, at the entrance is a BAR. Like with a mahogany finish and beer taps and flat screen tv's. And it looked like people actually met up there just for the bar- at a Whole Foods! People browse the aisles while carrying their pint glasses. Deeper into the store is a WINE bar. Again, people all dressed to the nines on a Friday night, sitting in the middle of a Whole Foods sipping wine. I would have taken pictures, but I know that Whole Foods does not enjoy that. We took a photography class last December, and two members of our class were asked to leave the local Whole Foods during one of our photography assignments. And you wouldn't want to get kicked out of this Whole Foods. No sir.
Jim had his bike with him, and after our shop we parted ways so I could head back to the dingy disgusting why-does-that-puddle-never-go-away North and Clybourn red line stop (good God if Chicago gets the Olympics, will they at least re-do the red line? ). Well, on this walk I passed the Express store on North. All I saw were red "Sale" signs. Even with that, I kept walking. Then I stopped. It may have been the failure I felt because of my teeth. It may have been the fancy feeling I felt just from walking through that beautiful Whole Foods. But my body was hit with this incredible urge to shop NOW. Buy nice clothes NOW. ON SALE. So I did a pivot turn right into that store. And of course I got one of those good sales ladies who was all, "do you need another size? have you seen our skirts are also on sale? Oh, you're looking for work clothes? Let me HELP" and doesn't make you feel like a loser for not being able to even remember the last time you bought work clothes. Jim, who stopped to get us some hamburgers from Five Guys, gets a text from me that reads "GONE SHOPPING" which is all I could manage to get out while carrying our Whole Foods eggs and oranges and my accumulating pile of clothes. And when I stumbled through our door an hour later, arms shaking from carrying my purchases, I found my hamburger warming in the oven and my wonderfully supportive husband didn't flinch a muscle when I told him how much I spent but rather told me that I needed clothes, and it was absolutely fine. And with that, I went to bed. Without flossing.
