But it was something really good.
I was kind of sad this morning. I hate going to the dentist, and this morning I had to drag not only myself, but Emily, too. The last time I went for the regular check up much like this morning's, I was told that I had to get a crown. So, I got the crown. Only the hygienist didn't do something right and the glue pretty much closed the gap between the crown and the tooth next to it. The dentist had to do some heavy-duty work to work a gap back in just so I could floss. He yanked my head all to pieces, and I remember thinking that I'd happily give up flossing if that would make him stop yanking; I swear he was going to slice my head in two with that stupid piece of string.
I am happy to report that not only did Emily get to have her teeth cleaned and checked out without mom, but that we are both cavity free.
I was kind of sad this morning. My normal routine was completely blown (see above), and I'm such a creature of habit and schedules. Plus, I kind of felt icky. So, I finished the novel I was reading, watched part of Season 3 of Celebrity Fit Club--it's the one with Gunnar Nelson who was seemingly skinny when he came on the show, replacing Jeff Conaway who had gone into rehab. I absolutely adored Nelson and everytime Gunnar appeared, I'd sing, "I can't live without your love and affection ...." I have that TAPE somewhere downstairs along with all of my other 80's music (Sharon, I should suggest that to your 80's spandex guy).
Anyway, I think that I'm going to set up a Celebrity Fit Club in my laundry room. That's where my scale is. I'm going to pretend it lights up when I step on it, and then I'm going to have pictures of Harvey Walden, Linda Papadopoulos and Dr. Ian lined up on the backsplash of the folding table, which coincidentally, happens to be right in front of the scale. I'd be facing the pictures as I weighed. Dr. Ian is going to tell me what a fantastic job I've done and ask me what my secret is; Linda is going ask me how the psychological impact of weighing is and how I can have help in not fixating on a number, and Harvey can tell me anything he wants. No, really, he will tell me that I'll need to lose four more pounds by next weigh-in and to "move your *ss."