These Are the Days of the Dentist

Once upon a time there was a happy hubby that was not so happy anymore. He was suffering from horrible tooth pain. The oceangypsymom was at her wits end with the hubby due to his constant complaining. Unfortunately, her hubby suffers from the ridiculous concept that the dentist is not for routine maintenance. He believes that they wait by the phone and for him to have an emergency so that they can be ready, willing and able to assist. Oceangypsymom was feeling put out because she needed to call all over town to find a dentist that would see her hubby STAT.

God was smiling down upon oceangypsymom and her hubby and provided just such an appointment! This office was helpful, cheerful, and in a nutshell, all that the oceangypsy family could ask for in a dentist. Regular appointments were scheduled and kept! Indeed, this particular dentist and his assistants were becoming part of our regular and daily lives.

For those of you that may have forgotten, oceangypsymom hates going to the dentist. However, this office is good with the nitrous so she sucks it up (literally) and gets through. The assistants are always kind and ALWAYS ask about the hubby.

About a month ago the hubby blew off a dentist appointment for which oceangypsymom caught flack (hell) from the assistants about. When asked if she would like to reschedule for him, oceangypsymom replied, "you will have to ask him about rescheduling, here is his cell #". The conversation seemed of little consequence and was soon forgotten, until.... the hubby actually goes to the dentist and is asked by all the caring (nosy) assistants if he and his wife are still together. He answers yes, and laughs it off.

The next appointment was for oceangypsymom who is also asked if her and the hubby are still together. Nosy! Nosy! Nosy! Now I'm a little upset that anyone would even think that we weren't together anymore and make a vow to choose my words more carefully in the future lest anyone get the wrong idea.

Fast forward, hubby goes in for a followup appointment. Now the assistants, each and every one of them, make a point to come by his room and "check" on him to see how he's doing. The hubby, not accustomed to such volumes of unabashed flirting, comes home smiling from ear to ear.

Now, ladies, I ask you... are these women after my man? Because, it seems to me that they are in the business of making our business their business if you know what I mean. I don't think these assistants are the least bit concerned for the health of our marriage. I think they're like vultures circling the area hunting for easy prey. And if so, what should oceangypsymom do about such flirtation? Should she a) kick the office to the curb and take her business elsewhere
b) take it as a compliment and leave it at that or c) cause a scene?

Okay, So I Lied

I would like to think that for the most part I am a pretty honest person. I learned my lesson as a kid. I would spin lie after lie and then really have trouble keeping track of all of them. Every so often I'd be subjected to a family meeting in which I'd be asked about all the lies I had perpetrated upon my family. I hated those meetings, because my clever stepdad never really revealed just how much he already knew. I had to be very careful not to rat myself out further.

Eventually, I figured out that it just wasn't worth the effort. The energy it takes to live the lie is exhausting and never pans out anyway. Truly, having led such a checkered childhood has had its advantages. For instance, I can spot a lie coming out of a child's mouth a mile away. Yes, this is one of my best super power mommy skills.

So, it actually came as a surprise to myself, when I heard the lies coming directly from my own lips. I didn't think about it before hand, I didn't mull over the best lie to tell, it just popped out all natural like (maybe a leopard can never really can change its spots). It was a small, white lie, but still. My dental hygienist surprised me, "how many times a week do you floss?" What kind of loaded question is that? It reminded me of when the lady at the drivers lisence bureau asked me how much I weighed. Seriously, these questions are of a personal nature.

The thing is, I hate going to the dentist. When you have had perpetually bad teeth your whole life, and every time you go you're made to feel like a criminal and then charged $600 for the lovely experience, well then, a few white lies here and there just make the whole thing tolerable. Ummmhh... "four times a week" (Obviously lying here). And, now, I'm thinking four times a week! I'm really going to have to actually step up the whole flossing routine or I'm definitely getting caught in this lie. Basically, I'm a 36 year old, fairly well adjusted, woman that turns into a lilly livered, coward whenever it comes to issues that have to do with taking care of myself. Don't ask me about my weight either!

So, I lied... sue me.