Over the weekend I saw a really cute dress on the clearance rack at Steinmart. It immediately struck me as something that would be great with flip flops and super comfortable on a hot summer day, and I was intrigued. I didn’t buy it, though, because I’d gone in Steinmart looking for t-shirts, and I hated to abandon my original shopping objective for the first ruffle-y collared dress that caught my eye.

Besides, I wasn’t really in the mood to buy a cute dress considering that I spent most of the weekend feeling pretty preoccupied with my ongoing tooth drama. The temporary crown popped off Friday morning, and since my dentist doesn’t work on Fridays, I didn’t know what to do next. Was I supposed to put it back on? Find another dentist? Call the number for “dental emergencies” that they mention on my dentist’s voice mail?

In the end I left my dentist a long, rambling message (IMAGINE THAT), and then Twitter came to my rescue because one of my Twitter friends happens to be A REAL-LIVE DENTIST. She assured me that everything was going to be fine, and I felt like I could hang tight until Monday, never you mind that I was a wee bit scared that my fancy new root canal was going to be RURNT, ALL RURNT thanks to the malfunction of the temporary crown.

And yes. It has come to this. I have become a person WHO TALKS ABOUT MY TEETH ON THE INTERNET.

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

The dentist’s office returned my call early yesterday morning, and after a lengthy discussion regarding, well, YOU KNOW, we set up an appointment for today. The sweet dental hygienist then told me to make sure that I didn’t chew on my left side – and to put the temporary crown in a safe place so that I wouldn’t lose it.

So that’s why there’s now a plastic tooth-like object resting comfortably in a Ziploc bag on my kitchen counter. IT’S LIKE ALL MY DREAMS HAVE COME TRUE!

Anyway, once some of the tooth-related concerns were settled, I moved through the rest of yesterday morning pretty quickly. I drove Alex and a couple of his buddies to VBS, I worked on an article, I answered some emails – and about an hour before it was time for VBS pick-up, I decided that I’d swing by Steinmart and see if that dress was still there. I’d thought about it several times since I walked away from it Saturday, and the more I thought about what we have going on this summer, the more I decided that I was going to invite it to make its permanent home in my closet.

I found the dress on the same rack where I left it, and since I wasn’t looking for anything else, I made a beeline for the cash register. I expected that there would be a wait to check out since it was Senior Citizens’ Discount Day, but I was the first in line. I recognized the lady who was working at the register, so we made a little small talk, and as she was getting ready to scan the price tag of my dress, I asked her if I could still use the 20% off coupon from this past weekend.

“Well,” she replied, “I’ll have to see. Let me take a look at it.”

I fumbled around in my purse, found my phone and pulled up the coupon in my email. I zoomed in on it so that the print wouldn’t be quite as small, and I handed her my phone so that she could check it out.

“This coupon says ‘Good through 6/5,'” she said. “It’s 6/6.”

“Oh, okay,” I answered. “I just thought maybe it would still work since it says ‘Through Monday’ at the top of it.”

She paused for a second and said, “I’m sorry, but it says 6/5, so I can’t give you the discount. Unless…”

I leaned forward a little bit, eager to hear what the loophole might be.

“…are you a senior?”

“Ma’am?”

“Are you a senior?”

I didn’t understand for a few seconds, and then it dawned on me: she was asking if I was a SENIOR CITIZEN.

No kidding: it was one of those “LUUUUUUUUKE, IIIIIII AMMMMMMMM YOURRRRRR FAAAAAAAAATHERRRRRRR” moments. The whole world slowed down to a crawl while I tried to process what had happened. I knew that I needed to respond, WHAT WITH HER ASSUMPTION THAT I WAS 65 AND ALL, so I just shook my head, smiled, and said, “No ma’am.”

However, you may rest assured that it was also one of those moments where I definitely did not say what I wanted to say. Because what I wanted to say was, “Ma’am, I am 41 years old. And I recognize that I am tired, not wearing make-up and in moderate-to-severe need of some fresh highlights. But I have spent the last three days feeling a little bit discouraged because it is HOT and I HAD A ROOT CANAL and MY FAKE TOOTH FELL OUT and DID I MENTION THAT IT IS VERY HOT. So while I anticipate that there will be a point in my life when I will embrace my status as a senior citizen and all the blessings that accompany that season of life, you must trust me when I tell you that NOW IS NOT THAT TIME.”

And then I would’ve smiled real big so that she could clearly see the gap in my teeth where the temporary crown should be.

By the time I finished with my inner diatribe, the cashier announced my total and said, “Wow! Look! The dress was actually discounted an additional 25%, so you still got a great deal.”

You’d better believe that it took everything in me not to pretend like I was turning up my hearing aid while I screamed, “WHAT DID YOU SAY, HONEY?”

When I picked up the young’un from VBS I was feeling better about the whole situation (I really do know that the cashier didn’t mean any harm; she was just looking for another way that I might be able to get 20% off), and when I talked to Melanie a little bit later, I told her the whole story. She was just as sympathetic as she could be, and then she offered some perspective.

“Listen,” she said. “I am going to tell you something. I have seen you at your absolute worst – when you’ve been in pajamas for two days and haven’t fixed your hair and haven’t had nearly enough sleep. And I am here to tell you that there has never been a point, even when you were at your absolute worst, when I thought for even one second that you looked like you were eligible for some sort of senior citizen discount.”

Then we laughed until we cried.

And I couldn’t help but laugh all over again when I flipped through yesterday’s mail – because the previous owner of our house got a postcard that was TOTALLY PERFECT considering the day’s events.

So if you’ll excuse me, I need to go now. It’s time for my dentist appointment, and afterwards I’m going to stock up on Metamucil and test drive some Hoverounds. It’s sure to be a big day!

Love,
Mamaw

So I don’t know how I missed it, really, because I think it’s fairly obvious that I am a person who loves some quality television, but until this past Saturday, I had never seen a single episode of Say Yes To The Dress.

SHOCKING, isn’t it?

I’ve been hearing people talk about the show (which chronicles the behind-the-scenes drama of brides-to-be who are on the hunt for the perfect wedding gown) for the last year or so, but I never made a point to watch. Since I was never a girl who wanted to be a princess and spesh-ul and all that on her wedding day (I have issues with being the center of attention, and the primary issue is that I CANNOT STAND IT), sometimes I don’t really relate to wedding shows where brides are super-obsessed with all the details surrounding their ceremonies and receptions and photographs and flowers and whathaveyou. It makes me very tired.

But.

Saturday afternoon I was doing a little channel surfing while A was at a friend’s house and D was saving the world from certain peril on the Xbox, and I ran across a SYTTD marathon. I started watching because I am a little fascinated that nobody seems to wear sleeves anymore when they get married – THE WHOLE WORLD’S GONE STRAPLESS, MY FRIENDS – and sure enough, the girls on the first show I watched tried on strapless gowns exclusively. Clearly they have some upper arm confidence that I myself have never possessed. So I watched another episode. And another. And by that third episode, I was hooked. My DVR will be on SYTTD duty from here on out.

From this day forward, if you will.

Watching a show about women trying to find a wedding dress made me think about what that process was like for me back in the late 90s, and honestly, I thought that shopping for a wedding gown was pretty stress-free. When Mama and I were looking at wedding gowns one day in Memphis, I saw a dress that I had loved when I was browsing in a store in Baton Rouge a few months before. It was discontinued, but the Memphis store had my size in stock. It was the second dress I tried on, and that was that. Easy breezy.

The show also made me wonder how many of those girls are going to look back on their wedding gowns and regret their choice. I have a couple of friends with some significant Wedding Dress Regret, mainly because their taste has changed a bunch since they got married. And even though I don’t really think about my wedding gown that often, by the time I watched my fourth episode of SYTTD I was pulling out our wedding album and trying to figure out if I’d still say yes to my dress some 14 years after I walked down the aisle.

Perhaps a visual aid would be helpful.

Now. I will share my thoughts in a handy numbered format.

Thought #1) Hey. Nice bangs.

Thought #2) Seriously. Wasn’t there somebody around who could have helped me a little bit with my bangs? THEY’RE ENORMOUS.

Thought #3) I would give anything to look that rested again.

Thought #4) And also: to be 40 pounds thinner again.

Thought #5) So far I’m not really focusing on the dress, am I?

Thought #6) I could live without the little rosettes on the sleeves.

Thought #7) There’s a little bow behind the bouquet. I could live without that bow, too.

Thought #8) I like that the skirt is very simple and plain.

Thought #9) I’m a little shocked that I still really like the dress – even with the rosettes and the bow – 14 years later.

Thought #10) Conclusion: I would still say yes to my dress.

Thought #11) Conclusion: I have to say no to those bangs, though.

So what about y’all? If you’re married or have been married before, would you still say yes to your dress? Or do you wish you’d gone in a different direction? Or are you so sentimental about your wedding day that you’d look back on a dress made from potato sacks (adorned with seed pearls, of course) with fond memories and tears in your eyes?

If you need me I’ll be in the comments – waiting to hold your bouquets and fix your trains, of course.

A few weeks ago I noticed that one of my teeth seemed to be a little bit angry. It wasn’t throwing a full-blown temper tantrum or anything like that, but it was definitely annoyed. I kept waiting for the pain to go away, and while some days were better than others, there was always a lingering something going on, even when I tried my best to pretend Okay! All better now! I really think it’s better! Must have just been a little sensitive!

I knew that I needed to call the dentist, but I put it off because, well, I was scared. This has absolutely nothing to do with my dentist, who happens to be a delightful and personable man, but it has everything to do with some painful experiences that I had at the dentist’s office as a child. My childhood dentist was a really kind man, but the late 70s were a different dental time. I mean, Alex’s dentist has patient rooms that are built around a giant aquarium. Kids get to wear cool sunglasses, pick their favorite flavor toothpaste for cleaning and select a prize from the toy chest at the end of their visit.

But when I was growing up? We pretty much just sat on a folding chair in a cinder block room and waited for the dentist to walk in with his pliers and ice pick. There may have even been a sign that said “NO MERCY” above the doorframe.

So, given all those special memories I have from childhood trips to the dentist, I’m not always as proactive as I should be when it comes to dealing with something like a toothache. However, last Sunday night I was at church when that tooth – the one that had been annoyed for a few days – decided to bring it with THE FULL-ON SMACKDOWN. Oh my word it SMARTED. It hurt so much, in fact, that biting my lip really hard was the only way to get my mind off the pain. And when I finally got home and took an Excedrin Migraine, I decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to also rub Icy Hot all over the left side of my face. It stung like the dickens, but it helped.

Needless to say, I called the dentist’s office the next day.

Tuesday morning I saw my regular dentist, and after he looked around for a few minutes and did a quick x-ray, he told me that I needed a root canal and a crown. So basically, you know, ACES.

This morning I went to an oral surgeon for the root canal, and y’all, I am here to tell you that THE MAN HAS A GIFT. He was incredibly kind and patient – and I didn’t feel a thing. Not even the shots. Now granted, I used the nitrous oxide because the sound of a dentist’s drill is my least favorite sound in the world and makes me all nervous and anxious and fidgety, but I honestly didn’t feel a second’s discomfort.

We’ve come a long way since the days when we had to sit on folding chairs, my friends.

After I finished at the oral surgeon’s I had to go to my regular dentist’s office so that they could fit me with a temporary crown (for some reason all this talk of dental procedures makes me feel like my name is Mildred and I just got fitted for a fresh set of dentures). Since they were using that buffer/sander/high-pitched whirling dervish thing-y that also makes me hark back to the days of the NO MERCY dentist, I got the day’s second round of nitrous oxide – which, as you know, is A LOT for a Baptist.

As best I could tell my regular dentist had the laughing gas dialed up a notch or nine compared to the oral surgeon, and I say that because Mama here was a wee bit loopy. I kept thinking about stuff that was straight from the heart of crazytown: contemplating whether or not Melanie and I should dress up in costumes at LifeWay’s .MOM event this fall, wondering if I have ever fully appreciated the fact that tennis is a sport for a lifetime (note: I do not play tennis), comparing the Zaxby’s chocolate shake to the Chick-fil-A vanilla shake and thoughtfully considering the merits of both, etc. and so forth and so on amen.

(And come to think of it, the laughing gas probably had nothing at all to do with that whole milkshake thing. I could do a shake-to-shake comparison on any given day of the week, really.)

So all that to say: it’s been a big day. I’m about to grab a blanket, settle in on the couch, turn on Food Network, and try to rest a little bit before suppertime rolls around.

My new tooth and I are just as tickled as we can be.
___________________________________________________________
Don’t forget that the Compassion Bloggers are in the Philippines this week. This post of Emily’s is so humbling and so beautiful – as is this post of Stephanie’s. If you’ve been on the fence in terms of sponsoring a child through Compassion, I hope you’ll read what they have to say.