I had to get up this morning to go to a 7am dentist appointment. You can imagine, I was not entirely happy about this. But I was on a waiting list because I cancelled my last appointment, so I was feeling obligated to get it done.
I dislike the dentist. Don’t get me wrong, the actual person is really nice. He’s a friend of the family and it’s fun to go in and chat with him. I wish I could just go in and chat, while keeping my mouth clenched shut and everyone’s hands far away from my face. Alas, this is not how the dentist works, unfortunately.
This morning I actually had a nice time. No, I didn’t go insane and start loving having my teeth scraped. I should be ashamed to admit it, but I liked it because the dental hygienist told me I looked good. Remember, I am 30 weeks pregnant and feeling big. Everywhere I go, I get comments. This is the fifth baby, and I know the front of me has reached new frontiers. Everyone else seems to be noticing as well. But this nice lady assured me that I looked great, perfect, she even alluded to the word small. (well, that is a stretch, but not huge, anyway.)
Maybe I will start liking dentist and doctor appointments more if everyone takes a cue from this nice hygienist. Flatter me. Maybe tomorrow when I take Miss 1 to the pediatric opthamologist, the doctor should mention how cute Miss 1 and I both are, that we’re actually beauty queens, before she updates me on the possibility of eye surgery. . . . . .
Isn’t it a little soon to be thinking of surgery?!?! I mean, how many MONTHS has Ruby had glasses?
She’s going to need surgery AND glasses. The vision is a separate problem from her little eye turning in.
Flattery makes everything better!
That is why I kept mt OB. He told me how great I looked (when I was about to pop @ 9 + months prego) & I was hooked!
(that was supposed to be *my* – sorry, typing w/ 1 finger doesn’t work so well :/)