Smile pretty

Tuesday, March 14:

I visit my dentist's office for a regular cleaning. My regular hygenist, a really nice person who has worked there for years, has always begun the visit by asking, "Are there any changes in your medical history?" Today is no different.

Are there any changes?

"Not unless you include pregnancy," say.

I mean, is being a pregnant a medical thing? The philospher in me will have to think that one out later.

But for now, that's good enough for the hygenist. That means no x-rays this visit -- even though I'm due for a full set to keep up my file -- and no fluoride treatment. She also says I should ask the dentist my question about whether I can use those whitening strips.

But I forget to.

The hygenist tells me about her kids growing up. Her daughter refused to wear a dress. One summer, she wore only one shorts outfit. The same one, every day. The hygenist had to wash the shorts outfit every night.

I think my kid would go naked before I would wash an outfit every single night.

The dentist is happy -- he has two new daughters -- and says his niece is expecting the same time I am.

So there's another one of us.

He and the hygenist tell me about pregnancy gingivitus. I would have thought it would be called gestational gingivitus. But what do I know? They tell me to try to keep my mouth as clean as possible.

Now, how did they know I am trying not to swear so much?!

Before I leave, the receptionist wants to know everything. Did my husband and I plan the child, or was it a surprise? Didn't my body feel different -- didn't I just know I was pregnant right from the start? Aren't the grandparents excited?

I am certain my M-I-L has already tipped off these people. They all seem to have taken the news in stride.

The receptionist would probably keep me for a half-hour, talking about the baby and relationships, but I am meeting my husband for lunch.

Good thing I didn't have that fluoride treatment.