Double Dare

As I changed out of my rain-sodden work clothes (yes I had an umbrella, but this is London; the rain never falls in a way that lets an umbrella have a hop of protecting anything except the hand that's holding it. And sometimes not even that), I scooped myself a teaspoon full of Nutella. I bought a massive jar to "help" me with my essay writing binge. I could justify it at the time - something about low-GI - but really I know it was an impulse buy because it tastes good and the geniuses at Tescos had put it on the end of the aisle. It's like they knew I was coming, or something. As I licked the spoon clear of any trace of spread, almost as if I'm suspecting the cast of CSI to burst into my room later looking for the evidence, I read on the label that roughly a third of the jar is fat. I nonchalantly scooped another spoonful into my mouth. Today, I just don't care.

Because today has been a bitch of a day. I've had a toothache since Monday. Well, I wasn't sure it was a toothache. It seemed like more a jaw ache at first, the sort of thing that happens when you've been clenching muscles in your sleep. I wasn't too worried about it. But then this morning I couldn't stand having the toothbrush hitting certain teeth. That's when I knew; not only was I going to be chewing gum later that day to avoid bad breath, given that I have the pain threshold of either that princess who complained about the pea or a soccer player at a vital moment, but that I needed to find myself a dentist.

I hate the dentist. I have my horror story reasons, partly involving a broken tooth, partly involving serious and unexplained bruising. And that was with reputable dentists in a country where taking care of your mouth is considered mandatory (for all except me, whose only two visits to a dentist since the end of primary school have had the results above). But I was in England. Land of bad dental work. So legend has it, anyway. So I'm a little worried about the outcome of tomorrow afternoon's visit.

And that bit of Nutella? Least of my worries. I dare it to land on my hips, thighs, stomach, and see if care. If things go their usual way at the dentist tomorrow, tonight will be the last supper for a few nights anyway. Might as well eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow, we visit the tooth doctor.