My husband never misses an opportunity to tease me.
For example. Two days after proposing to me, he had an infected sore on his bottom (yes, his bottom) which gave him a very high temperature and drove him to the ER. He spouted so many puns he had the nurses in stitches. They couldn’t take him sitting down. He was a pain in the butt, but he couldn’t stand it.
You get the idea.
The first thing on our to-do list this year was get some appointments to see some doctors. Dentist, eye doctor, our primary care physician. You name it, I got it booked (go me!). Naturally, I scheduled them to happen at the same time.
By this point in our marriage–three years and counting–I’ve stopped being surprised by any kind of teasing or pun-manship that comes out of my husband’s mouth. I just gear up to give as good as he. And I wasn’t disappointed.
At the eye doctor’s, he was blind as a bat. But I was a typical woman, taking thirty minutes to chose my new frames when he took only five minutes. “I knew what I wanted and I found it.” Well, excuse me for not knowing what I wanted and not finding it quickly. But I’m pleased with what we got. Thanks to this wonderful thing called insurance, we spent less on two pairs of glasses than I spent on my previous pair (which I had to pay full price for, me not having that wonderful thing called insurance at the time).
The next day, we went to the dentist. It’d been a while for both of us, and we just wanted a cleaning and a check-up. We both had tons of x-rays and pictures taken of our teeth, and then we were put in adjoining rooms.
The best part of that? Eavesdropping.
- Doctor to Michael. “So how did you hear about us?”
- Michael. “Oh, through our insurance. I had my wife give ya’ll a call.”
- Me. “Only because you hate phone calls!”
Though let’s face it. We both hate calling strangers. I just drew the short straw. But it’s a lot more fun to have a mock argument than to admit that fact.
- Michael. “I do not hate phone calls. You hate phone calls. I was just helping you get over your fears!”
Yeah, right, Michael. Yeah right. You just keep telling yourself that.
Our fun didn’t end there. We both ended up with cavities that we decided to put off filling until the insurance would pay out more. And while Michael had some damage from teeth-grinding he didn’t know he did (I promise, I don’t drive him crazy. Okay, that crazy.), I had some serious caked-on tarter build up that really concerned the doctors.
And since they were afraid I was a sissy and couldn’t take the pain of them scraping it off my teeth, they decided to numb the area. Which was a novel experience, considering I’d never been numbed at the dentist’s before.
Just my lower lip, which was a good thing because I’m not sure I would have been able to talk or eat at all. As it was, everything felt rubbery and puffy. I drooled everywhere, talked with a lisp, couldn’t drink without it coming back out, and had the hardest time just smiling. But the weirdest part? Looking in the mirror and not seeing anything different.
But hey, I had fun making faces at my husband from across the lobby. He had fun teasing me about my lisp. We got to make the receptionist laugh, and later, I plucked out a bunch of chin whiskers and didn’t feel a thing. Not a thing.
I tell you, that’s how waxing aught to work. Just go to the dentist, get yourself all numbed up, and then go to the salon and have them pluck every single stray hair off your face. Painless and fun. It’s a win-win for everyone!