…Yet here it is.

I’ve made an appointment to have a wisdom teeth removal consultation, free of charge.  Kind of makes it sound like a tree trimming service, doesn’t it?  (Oh, how I wish it were; I’d much rather have my trees chopped down than massive holes drilled into my face.)

It has to happen, because those greedy fatsos (and yes, I have all four of them) are crowding the rest of my teeth, causing them to become more crooked with every passing second.

Don’t think I didn’t notice it, because I did.  No amount of flossing will save me this time…

I know it has to be done…but it’s not going to happen before I whine and complain about it for hours on end.  I’m not kidding: I really don’t want to have my wisdom teeth removed.  As a matter of fact, undergoing that particular surgery is one of my biggest fears in life, second only to childbirth, and right ahead of awkward small-talk.  On the hierarchy of things I would rather not do in my life…well, it pretty much reigns supreme.  I bet you’d like to see that list, wouldn’t you?  Okay…

Things in My Life I Would Rather Not Do

1.  Give birth

2.  Have four holes drilled into my face bones and four giant teeth wrenched from their sockets

3.  Engage in awkward small-talk

4.  Face confrontation

5.  Walk down Main Street completely naked

6.  Sing a solo in public

7.  Own a cat

8.  Try to bake dinner rolls

9.  Read a poem

10.  Starve

So there you have it.  As you can see, I am very anti-wisdom teeth being pulled.  It is not the surgery that worries me—it’s the post-op.  The road to recovery is long and hard, so I’m told.  My fears originated in high school, when I witnessed my friends’ and relatives’ recoveries from the procedure.  I heard horror stories of being sent home from the surgery armed with hand-held suctions and syringes, to help remove food particles that would likely get lodged in the massive hollows of the jaw.  I have been privy to tales of woebegone souls who suffer from sock-jocket or dry-locket or whatever the horrible affliction is called that often accompanies the recovery.  I have seen the bloody rags, dripping with viscous saliva, that are used to quell the flow of blood to the throat.

I can handle my face swelling up to the size of a small planet, truly.  But I can NOT handle the thought of an entire pea embedding itself into my gums.

I am queasy now, which is a direct result of my inability to deal with crap like this.  Just think how I’ll be when I actually go through with it.

That will be a post you won’t want to miss.

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