Date a girl who goes to the Dentist. She is brave.
Thursday, August 27, 2015
"You swallow like a child."
The last person who comes to your mind when you hear those words have to be your Dentist. In a neurotic turn of events, I found myself hearing that and a few other life-altering statements in the midst of a dental examination. When your Dentist hits you with this sentence in your 20s, you feel like your adulthood has definitely lost the manual somewhere. While the opening line may have been salacious, I can assure you, the rest of the post is going to go nowhere near the situation from your porn stash or teen nostalgia (while your grandmom enjoyed her afternoon siesta in the room next to yours).
I gathered the remains of my mental and physical strength this morning/afternoon, right after the standard rinse-shower routine. Minus any breakfast or health supplement, I found myself empty stomach cursing every bit of the decisions I'd partaken along with the necessary financial supplement from my parents- including each of the take-outs, restaurant dinners and even overdosing on Diet Coke, on my way down to the hospital. On a side note, I'm already missing colas more than I am possibly going to miss pizzas. Did I mention a very subtle life-long ban on Colas yet? The only upside to this situation, I know how to use a Debit Card and I have legitimately visited a Dentist by myself. Those are pretty fucking big milestones for any adult, yes.
Here's a free suggestion, of course, stream of consciousness if you may. Drop all the things you've on your mind today and go visit your dentist. Visit a dentist. You need a dental check-up every 6 months. My frequency of dental check up has imitated the pattern of Purna Kumbh Mela. I would sincerely advice you to not follow the same routine as mine and get yourself a dentist. I can't emphasize hard enough on the joy of having a gorgeous jaw with pearly whites or plaque yellow looking stunning, in a symmetrical order.
Symmetry or vanity in my case, is the death of me. While I may be giving in to what I would state a social suicide, I'd like to convince myself that cutting down on my vices may be healthy for character and jaw building. Mentally, physically and financially dental treatments are known to drain you, but what comes out often is some unnerving piece of self-confidence. Some may call it character building, that is applicable if and only if you've survived braces and bullying together. While I can't say the same for adulthood, I remember very distinctly, I'd learned to smile and flash one everywhere I'd go- to the mirror in my grandparent's washroom, at annual school events, in my identity card mugshot, at the porch next to a new plant in a green tie and die shirt and plaid wrap around (good god). While my dressing sense has improved since then, the neurotic ability to be a Type A asshole has gone up. I am far more stressed and definitely anxious about the pain, the longevity, the state of being, the food groups to avoid, the jokes to crack, my face after, lipstick and the possible metal wires flashing that I will have to indulge in at my friend's wedding.
I can assure you, there's nothing more unnerving in your 20s than having to go to college and working on a dissertation all by yourself, when your contemporaries are busy being CEOs at their father's company, having babies and posting flawless selfies. If you don't know any of those, you might come from a group of circle where those who harboured some ambitious taking over the world sort of dream are now busy eating free meals and writing about it (apparently, that's what it takes to become a lifestyle writer now) while the others are burning it out at the gym to achieve that perfect body before they can marry into a family that sells sweets. You're bound to have people in your life who fall in these cliches and you, you don't. You end up thinking that you'll be stepping into your birthday, 12 years later with the same inhibitions and excitement of a then 12-year-old. Deep within you know the hardships this shall lead you to, no longer will you be counted as an adult, you will have to add time to see a Dentist every three weeks and obviously, no spontaneous night outs without your toothbrush. You'll be the Miranda of your group (if you're lucky to land a date) or else you'll be Betty, through her ugly phase. You could be Cindy Crawford from her Pepsi advertisement days but you're not fooling anyone. No one likes to be that Valley Girl anymore. You, in your mind will be Janis Ian of a generation but you will end up being Amber D' Alessio.
"Braces?"
"Oh, my god,that was one time!"
The last person who comes to your mind when you hear those words have to be your Dentist. In a neurotic turn of events, I found myself hearing that and a few other life-altering statements in the midst of a dental examination. When your Dentist hits you with this sentence in your 20s, you feel like your adulthood has definitely lost the manual somewhere. While the opening line may have been salacious, I can assure you, the rest of the post is going to go nowhere near the situation from your porn stash or teen nostalgia (while your grandmom enjoyed her afternoon siesta in the room next to yours).
I gathered the remains of my mental and physical strength this morning/afternoon, right after the standard rinse-shower routine. Minus any breakfast or health supplement, I found myself empty stomach cursing every bit of the decisions I'd partaken along with the necessary financial supplement from my parents- including each of the take-outs, restaurant dinners and even overdosing on Diet Coke, on my way down to the hospital. On a side note, I'm already missing colas more than I am possibly going to miss pizzas. Did I mention a very subtle life-long ban on Colas yet? The only upside to this situation, I know how to use a Debit Card and I have legitimately visited a Dentist by myself. Those are pretty fucking big milestones for any adult, yes.
Here's a free suggestion, of course, stream of consciousness if you may. Drop all the things you've on your mind today and go visit your dentist. Visit a dentist. You need a dental check-up every 6 months. My frequency of dental check up has imitated the pattern of Purna Kumbh Mela. I would sincerely advice you to not follow the same routine as mine and get yourself a dentist. I can't emphasize hard enough on the joy of having a gorgeous jaw with pearly whites or plaque yellow looking stunning, in a symmetrical order.
Symmetry or vanity in my case, is the death of me. While I may be giving in to what I would state a social suicide, I'd like to convince myself that cutting down on my vices may be healthy for character and jaw building. Mentally, physically and financially dental treatments are known to drain you, but what comes out often is some unnerving piece of self-confidence. Some may call it character building, that is applicable if and only if you've survived braces and bullying together. While I can't say the same for adulthood, I remember very distinctly, I'd learned to smile and flash one everywhere I'd go- to the mirror in my grandparent's washroom, at annual school events, in my identity card mugshot, at the porch next to a new plant in a green tie and die shirt and plaid wrap around (good god). While my dressing sense has improved since then, the neurotic ability to be a Type A asshole has gone up. I am far more stressed and definitely anxious about the pain, the longevity, the state of being, the food groups to avoid, the jokes to crack, my face after, lipstick and the possible metal wires flashing that I will have to indulge in at my friend's wedding.
I can assure you, there's nothing more unnerving in your 20s than having to go to college and working on a dissertation all by yourself, when your contemporaries are busy being CEOs at their father's company, having babies and posting flawless selfies. If you don't know any of those, you might come from a group of circle where those who harboured some ambitious taking over the world sort of dream are now busy eating free meals and writing about it (apparently, that's what it takes to become a lifestyle writer now) while the others are burning it out at the gym to achieve that perfect body before they can marry into a family that sells sweets. You're bound to have people in your life who fall in these cliches and you, you don't. You end up thinking that you'll be stepping into your birthday, 12 years later with the same inhibitions and excitement of a then 12-year-old. Deep within you know the hardships this shall lead you to, no longer will you be counted as an adult, you will have to add time to see a Dentist every three weeks and obviously, no spontaneous night outs without your toothbrush. You'll be the Miranda of your group (if you're lucky to land a date) or else you'll be Betty, through her ugly phase. You could be Cindy Crawford from her Pepsi advertisement days but you're not fooling anyone. No one likes to be that Valley Girl anymore. You, in your mind will be Janis Ian of a generation but you will end up being Amber D' Alessio.
"Braces?"
"Oh, my god,
0 comments