So today was three days since I went to my dentist, who also happens to be my father, oh, and most recently moonlights as a plastic surgeon. Don’t call the American Society of Plastic Surgeons just yet, what’s going on is totally legit. He’s not doing boob jobs (I’m sure much to his dismay) and face lifts, however, my father, the dentist, now offers a new service – Botox and Restylane injections. When you think about it, it makes sense – a steady hand is a steady hand, right? A straight injection to the head is much simpler than injecting a needle into the back crevice of someone’s mouth. So of course being ever so impulsive, when I went to visit my father at work, I begged him to try out his new craft on me. It’s not that I’m vain, but rather, semi-insane. People pay hundreds for this yet I could do it for free! I really can’t think of a word to end this sentence, “would you like a free ______?”, that I would reply “No” to. I sat in the room as he did his first patient (I’m not at liberty to reveal who, but let’s just say it rhymes with shmushmother) and couldn’t help from glancing at the needle. Never a good idea for someone who gets light-headed from the simple thought of a needle, the actual image made it so much worse. When my father finished and told me I was up, I had a brief moment of panic. On top of the image of the needle in my head, there was an actual imagine, of a head, resting on my father’s counter. His own cheat sheet, printed off the ever so reliable world wide web. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” I questioned. He assured me he did, and if you can’t trust your own parents, who can you trust? I laid back in the dentist chair, closed my eyes, and hardly felt a thing. I stood up, triumphant, and walked out to talk to the woman who work in the office. The job was done, but that sneaky image of the needle kept piercing (pun intended) my thoughts. I saw those oh too familiar silver dots appear in the sky, felt my head get heavy, and warned my dad that I was pretty sure I was about to pass out. I rushed to lie back down in the dental chair. My dad went to wheel in his oxygen tank – the perks of getting plastic surgery in a dental office. When I came to, I got up to look in the mirror, and didn’t see a difference at all. He then told me it takes 3 to 7 days to see results. Ugh – that’s forever! So when I woke up today, I was excited to see the results. I was pleased to see that a previous forehead line was no longer as prominent, but as I traced my fingers along my forehead, I realized there is even more that can be done. Worse than swine flu, I think I’m catching a case of Heidi Montag syndrome – what’s next? Is there a boob job in my future? Can dentists perform that procedure?
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