Thursday, 28 November 2013

Old hag

 
 


Today's visit to the dentist proofed (beyond reasonable doubt) that my face these days bears an ever more striking ressemblance to a tea cosy. A disturbing notion made even more frightening by the fact that I hadn't really noticed it until this morning.


My daughter needs to see the dentist as her baby teeth are extremely reluctant to give way to her grown up teeth. The latter are only managing to push half of the said baby teeth out. Literally. Leaving the 10yo with a few half broken teeth that are putting up a really good fight to escape eviction. Whereas my daughter is very wishy-washy when it comes to brushing her teeth at the best of times, her severally unhappy bleeding gums do not make it any better at the moment. 
We are very pressed for time as usual. A piece of toast eaten standing up in the kitchen is our take on a classic family breakfast this morning. And a cup of tea. I can't function properly without at least one cup of tea, so I choose to brew one over blow drying my freshly washed hair. Which is not so bad if you take the car, but we are cycling as there is absolutely no place to park near the dentist. In order to save myself from pneumonia, I decide to wear a wooly hat. Not a nice trendy one as do not own a nice trendy hat, but a rather heavy, mid brown,  knitted affair procuced no doubt by a factory in Bangladesh.
Although my daughter is at the age to start commenting on my appearance;  she only raises an eyebrow when she sees me coming out of the house with the wooly hat not quite covering all of my dripping wet hair and not the slightest bit of mascara. The fact that she isn't very talkative before ten am probably saves me from all kinds of nasty remarks.
I feel less fortunate when I discover that our new Dutch dentist is an attractive, slim, perfectly groomed, blond, young woman at least fifteen year my junior. She takes one look at my unadorned face and  frumpy hat, another look at my daughter's sorry teeth and starts a rather long monologue about looking after one's teeth (which is probably meant as a metaphor for my whole appearance) and one's children's teeth with a little more vigilance. Appearantly it isn't my daughter's fault at all that her teeth are in poor condition. I should have brushed her teeth myself! Not until she is twelve can she my daughter be trusted to brush her teeth without my supervision. Are you kidding me?
I don't think she'll let me hold her toothbrush and there are far more pressing issues to fight over, like wearing a spaghetti strap top to school in midwinter, or putting on a fresh pair of knickers every day. 
So I don't think I will go as far as actually cleaning the 10yo's teeth, but I might give her the odd peptalk while she is brushing. Or set the alarm, withold her pocket money every time she fails to brush twice a day, stick a detailed picture of rotting teeth on the bathroom mirror, or all of the above.
As for myself, I vow to take more care of my appearance. At least when I  am going to see my son's 25yo new orthodontist, our very young new gp, or the physiotherapist that I have been  referred to, who only communicates via What's app. When I go to see him next week about my knee, I might even have to go as far as shaving my legs. In November!