On Losing My Wisdom

I recognize this has been a long hiatus.  Graduate school will do that to one's free time for writing fun things.  

I have always had what I consider to be practical teeth.  I know they aren't the kind of teeth that will win me Miss America (this was the first indicator to me at the age of 12 that I would never be Miss America.  Not the swimsuit competition and their stick thin frames, or their hair that quadrupled my amount of hair... it was their gummy smiles and large teeth.  Whatever.  As long as I knew that wasn't a reality and decided a college education would be necessary in my life).  They aren't particularly cavity prone and although my dental hygienist once described them as having "a certain roughness" about them, we have generally been on good terms.  I never had to have braces, I've never had a tooth pulled, nothing.  Until Friday.

I'm going to be honest.  I am ticked off at evolution on this one.  FOR THE LOVE.  Obviously humans don't need these things anymore, and I'm sure one day they will stop existing.  I have friends who had no wisdom teeth, or only half of their wisdom teeth (as in two, not halves of each of the four, that would be gross) and I find it ridiculous that I have all four and all in compromising positions.  EVOLUTION. What the heck?? I have defended you to my people all this time...and THIS IS WHAT YOU LEAVE ME WITH?  We are on rocky terms my darwinian friend. Rocky, rocky terms.  

Regardless, on Friday, I will forgo my usual schedule of yelling at seventh graders to stop touching each other, starve and dehydrate myself for 8 hours, fall into a deep sleep and wake up in what I am told is agonizing pain and misery.  And cheeks that are reminiscent of Alvin and the gang, this is an important one not to forget.  

I will be honest, I am not afraid of my teeth hurting.  I consider myself pretty tough in these regards (my mother would probably tell you otherwise).  Mostly I am concerned about the anesthesia talk I am going to regale my father with on the way home.  Not that I have anything to hide, but what if I start talking about something weird, or pull a David after dentist.  My students have requested a video.  I have politely refused.  (Polite? Who am I kidding.  There is no polite with middle schoolers, it doesn't exist).  My other concern is the theory I developed at 14 when I decided that probably everyone was alert during surgery, but they just don't remember it when they wake up.  

Ah well, I probably should have had them taken out when I was 18 like a normal person, but no.  I had to wait until I was 25 and "have tingling in my jaw and mouth for up to 8 weeks" according to my chipper optimistic oral surgeon, because "since you are an adult, your roots have fully formed." Oh good.  

This should be fun.