Search This Blog

Monday, November 24, 2008

Attack of the Killer Hummus...
or waiter, there's a tooth in my soup

Okay, so the family unit went out Saturday to celebrate Geo's Mum's birthday at a local eatery. We're all sitting around enjoying the hummus n'at appetizer, when the hubby stops, fishes around in his mouth and presents...half of his tooth!?!

What's that about?

It wasn't like he was demonstrating his latest carnie act, you know the one where he bends a huge rod (she said rod) of rebar with his bicuspids to the amazement of enchanted (albeit slightly disturbed) onlookers. At least that would be a cool story. No, sadly he was only chompin' on a piece of pita. "Mmmm. Mighty fine pita." *crack* ... tooth shrapnel.

Are we really so long of tooth that our long teeth are jumping ship?

I suspect so.

My own pearly whites have staged a mutiny this year. Root canal, crowns (plural), sensitivity preventing me from chewing ice cubes anymore. And I do love to chew me some ice cubes. I'm generally having a great time growing older. Mentally, the process is pretty cool. A lot of shite doesn't rattle my cage anymore. Like a fine w(h)ine, I'm mellowing with age. I don't get as crazy in the car, flipping people off is almost non-existent anymore (and I was so good at it, too) and waiting in loooooong lines doesn't honk me off as often. Even many marital misgivings are answered with less rancor. Maybe it's the aging... or maybe it's the Absolut.

Physically--getting older sucks bong water. I can't get out of a chair anymore without a chorus of creaks, cracks and pops. I'm like a freakin' bowl of rice crispies.

But middle-agedom does grant one wish for those of us less-than-endowed dames. Thanks to the the laws of gravity, turns out there is more of one's "attributes" to corral in a brassiere, if you know what I mean. Time provides a delightful development of one's d'ecollatage, at least for a brief amount of time before it all goes horribly, horribly south. A small gift from the Gods for one last gasp of femininity and empowerment.

So don't fear the forties, girlfriends. It's your last chance to dress up the girls.

No comments: