There are a lot of women, celebrities in particular, walking around smiling away their botoxed features knowing that the plastic surgeon screwed up, that slightly plumper lips turned to trout lips or slightly refined nose turned into cokehead nose or slightly larger breasts turned into Godzilla.
And I know exactly how they feel today. Because today my dentist told me that she botched up my root canal. Yes, a procedure with hardly any failure rate if any, has failed for me. That means I have to get the whole thing redone, along with a crown treatment that may or may not make my teeth look bigger. At this point, I am fearing the worst-losing the tooth. As the doctor explained all the possibilities and confused me like no book in microelectronics could, I struggled to stay calm. And I did. Wiped off two sorry tears.
The only reassurance I was looking for was that I’d look the same, and it was the only one I didn’t get.
And I know that the knee-jerk reaction whenever you get wronged is to sue. But I am not thinking about that. I am not interested in getting compensation for the fact that I could look like Bugs Bunny and noone will ever ever be interested in being with me EVER. Yes, you will tell me not whine, you will tell me suck it up because there is some poor kid out there who doesn’t know where his next meal is coming from. But I feel bad, because I am petty and shallow like that. And because I’ve never had dental trouble before. ever. Whatchagonnadoaboutit?
In any case, I’ve decided to get busy, read a lot and cultivate a rather interesting personality.
I call it Plan B.