I Just Might Mind About the Little Things

I love my dentist's office. I really do. It's all women, all the time. The receptionists are women, the hygienists are women, and the two dentists are women. Occasionally a stray male wanders in, but usually only the very young or very gay last long. The floors are hardwood, and the chairs in the waiting room are low and comfy and surround a fire place. There is a quiet and cheerful children's play area, and lots of plants. There is no towering meaty-handed ogre or smelly fish tank like when I was a kid.

I have, however, spent a LOT of time there recently. Since I started Project Invisalign, I have to go at least once a month, to pick up my next trays and check on progress. Since I was just there two weeks ago I freaked out when my Outlook reminder poppped up today, but I realized it was that happy time of year again when I was due for my stabbing, I mean cleaning. The whole reason I'm doing the Invisalign is because my bottom teeth are so crowded and angry and plaque-hungry, so it's always a bloody and traumatic event.

Today, however, my dentist (who is smoking hot) and I got into this weird conversation that she started about how my boss was going to think I was having an affair with her. It went from there, to how extra scandalous it would be because I would therefore also be found out as a lesbian. Let's face it, if I were gay she'd be way out of my league. But do I really give off that vibe? Do I need to start wearing makeup to the dentist's office? I can't wait til I go in when I'm like 11 months pregnant. Talk about scandalous.

I realized how sensitive I had become about my fertility when on the phone with my sister yesterday. Every innocent question rubs me the wrong way. No, I don't have some magic 'the oven is ready, get the bun in there!' timer. All I can do is play it by ear and 'listen to my body' like some damn new age hippie. A friend of mine asked last week if it was still ok to ask me how things were going; apparently, he had been slapped down one too many times by his other friends who were also trying. I told him I would rather know that people were thinking of me than have them afraid to talk to me about stuff, but I think I need to get better at saying, 'let's talk about something else, shall we?' at times. I'm actually worse when people ask about the house. It's off the market at the end of the month, don't ask me about it until next June, please don't make me think about it because I have to live it and it's exactly as crappy as you think it is. In a way it's oddly reassuing that my odds of having a baby are better than selling though. There's that silver lining again!

My dentist is not gay. I think she's divorced. It was all just in fun. But she really is totally hot, and single. She has a great body and likes to ski, has shoulder-length blonde hair, and obviously a really good job. Let me know if you know of any decent early-40's single guys who might be interested. But find a guy for me first, if you know what's good for you.