Alas, poor toothy

So just about an hour from now, I will be parting ways with my one and only wisdom tooth. I have mixed feelings about this-- my wisdom tooth never actually hurt anybody, except for the day that it grew in (because I swear to God, it grew in in one day, specifically, while I was at the Olde Time Tavern on a Monday night with my friend Jared. I clutched my cheek, near the new tooth, and said, "Fuck! What the hell is this?"). But at the same time it's old, worn out, broken and very pointy, sometimes catching on my lip or gum...

Okay, yes, so it routinely hurts people, namely me. But I've just never been good at saying goodbye to things. I once cried for several hours when my parents threw away my old winter boots (something they did with great ceremony, dangling each boot over the garbage can before dropping it in and humming "Taps"). And me and this tooth have had some good times! It was there during most of college, and all of grad school, and for my first kiss with Ben, and through countless cigarettes and cartons of Yan Yan...

Goodbye, bad wisdom tooth. New, non-smoking me sees no need to keep pointy, unreliable you anymore. And plus, Ben says he'll watch any movie I want with me when I get home from the dentist, and I totally checked out "Mean Girls." So while Toothy may be gone, the gift he has given me-- the gift of forcing Ben to watch a Lindsey Lohan movie with me-- will live on.