“Oh, Charles!  You do have heavenly teeth.”
– Cold Comfort Farm

Since J.’s in the country for the first time in months, I decided to drag him through the usual rounds of preventative medicine.  Monday I called for a dentist appointment only to be told the only openings they had were long after he left…except for one in half an hour.  Poor J. was on the receiving end of a bossy phone call, “Get in the shower, I’m on my way home now!”  I had a soft spot drilled out an sealed up – being from the attack-is-the-form-of-defense school of dental health – and spent the rest of the afternoon with a numb upper lip.

The beauty-is-pain rituals topped off at Rite Aid at 10pm, coming home from the gym looking a hot post-Zumba mess, and needing to buy spot treatment cream and shampoo with tea tree oil for the eczema on my scalp.

Clearly I am some kind of super attractive sex goddess.