Hygienist: Do you think you could remove that? [meaning my tongue stud]
Me: Umm….honestly, I’m not sure.
Hygienist: OK. I’ll just work around it.
Me: Sure, feel free to move it around as much as you need to.
Dentist: How long have you had that? [meaning my tongue stud]
Me: Um, 11 years?
Dentist, pushing back his chair a bit: 11 years?
Dentist: I guess my speech about hurting your teeth probably won’t work if you’ve had it for 11 years.
Dentist: Because I’ve seen people who have broken teeth…
Me: I don’t play with it, I don’t bite it – in fact most of the time I don’t even remember that I have it.
I share this anecdote because hello, I forget all the time that I have my tongue pierced period, much less that I’ve had it for 11 years. I can’t decide if it’s cool or weird or gross or all of the above that I’ve had this piece of metal in my mouth FOR NO GOOD REASON for 11 years.
I sometimes like to reflect on what earlier incarnations of E might think of where I am in my life. I’m in an adequate office job that makes not much more than what 22 year old E made, but I have two graduate degrees, which is something that 17 year old didn’t want to go to college E wouldn’t believe. I’m about to get remarried to an awesome guy with whom I have a really stable and healthy relationship, which is something that 24 year old E probably wouldn’t have imagined, but all ages of E should be happy about. I’m not a doctor, but I do have two cats, which should make 8-10 year old E pretty happy. I don’t stay out all night anymore, which would likely disappoint 19 year old E, but I do still have the tongue stud that I got at 19, so maybe we’ll call that one a draw.