So, a few weeks ago I had one of my monthly progress check dental appointments. What I’d hoped to hear was “looks great, retainers it is, and we’ll just take some molds [blargh!] and then pop out what you have. Come back in two weeks so we can fit the new ones.” And then I could indulge in popcorn, nuts, bagels, pizza crust, and all the other stuff that has been verboten since November. Alas, that’s not what transpired. Grumble, grouse, thpppth.Instead it will be another month of work and evaluation to see how things are progressing, followed by permanent retainers. Meaning they are glued in, just like the gizmo I have now. So no nuts, popcorn, bagels, pizza crust, taffy, Milk Duds (TM), and other stuff that, of course, I now desperately want to go nosh on.
In a fit of pique, I considered chowing down on one of the chocolate-covered chewy pecan pralines that I have stashed away to celebrate getting rid of this current dental appliance, nuts and caramel be d-mned. Instead I settled on two cream-filled chocolate cake lumps, kinda like the old Hostess-brand DingDongs but bigger. Yes, I know, I’m supposed to be a grown-up. Consider this my only tantrum.
I enjoyed the bad-for-me treat a great deal. And promptly discovered that my stomach is no longer age 18 (or 28) and bottomless. Those two chocolate fat bombs totally filled me up, a first as far as I can recall. Now, I am the person who has eaten an entire large thin-crust pineapple-ham-and-black-olive pizza by herself at one sitting. And the equivalent of half of an everything-but-anchovie stuffed crust (much to the amazed awe of the rest of the flying club. Hey, I was hungry, cold, wet, and I’d earned it. I’d been scrubbing Piper bellies for three hours, laying on my back on a creeper.) Granted, it was [mumble, mumble] years ago, but still. And when I was flying, I could scarf down almost anything from the nearest vending machine without ill effects. It appears those days are done and gone.
Nag dabit. I think this means I’m turning into an adult. Next I’ll start shaking my walking stick at the kids who drive past Schloß Red too fast with their stereos turned up full blast. I already wear sensible shoes.