Friday, May 11, 2007

The Truth Comes Out Along With My Tooth

Ok, truth be told on this one - I'm just a big baby!

I just had the remainder of a tooth pulled/extracted/yanked with great force and much pain, and I am a big, old, baby!!! I'm in a lot of pain, and the right side of my face, all the way up to my eye feels like a big football. All I want is for someone to gently comb the snarls out of my curly hair (yeah, summer humidity is here, which mean fun summer hair is here!!), or rub my back, while I cry quietly, because, as we've now established - I am a big baby!!!

I have always prided myself on being Miss Independant (which reminds me, all I really, really want for my birthday this year is tickets to see Kelly Clarkson at the Excel Energy Center on July 25th. And when I say I really want to see Kelly Clarkson, I mean, really as in, REALLY!!!).

Ok back to thought. Like I said, I've always prided myself on being strong, independant, capable, with enough spine for a school of chiropractors. But I'm starting to see lately, thank you God for such lovely lessons, that I'm really not. I am vulnerable. I hurt, I bleed, as the dental assistant was well aware. I need people around me, and not even actually need, as much as now want.

And I desire comfort. Not luxury, comfort. Big difference. I've always afforded myself luxuries, being denied so much growing up. A manicure here, a pedicure there, more clothes than anyone can count, and just fun girl stuff. But, comfort - well that's a different thing. Comfort is the feeling of mom combing your hair gently, or a friend rubbing your back. Comfort is being able to put my head on my friend's shoulder and just quietly sob from the pain and the emotional stress. Comfort is kisses on the forehead. Rainshowers that are gentle enough to forego thunder, but whose drops can lovingly stir up parched, cracked ground to smell fresh and spring like. Comfort is a mug of hot chocolate with a big homemade marshmallow perched atop, when you've just come in from the snow and the bottoms of your pants are wet. To me, comfort is just having someone say I care about you.

Right now, being the emo wreck I am, I desire comfort. Because my mouth hurts like crazy. And I am starting to see the walls crumble, and fall, as I realize, I'm not invulnerable. I'm a big baby!

1 comment:

China Doll said...

If I wasn't broke I'd buy you tickets to see Kelly. We could spend the day relaxing at the spa (which I could also afford if I wasn't poor), get all gussied up, and then go see a pop singer.

I've never actually seen a pop singer!

If only...