No sooner than I put on the lead apron did the dental hygienist start shimmying in slides inside my mouth.
“Now bite. Open again. Now bite. Good.”
She worked fast exiting the room each time while the machine made the familiar camera sound.
In short, the X-rays went without incident.
…No. Actually, she entirely forgot to ask me if I was pregnant, or if there was any chance I could be pregnant. Umm, hello??? You could have just given my fetus eight fingers on each hand! …..what if she didn’t forget….she just looked at me and knew. “This woman has no chance of being pregnant.” I mean, that’s the truth, but come on now. Give me a little credit here. I mean, even a remote chance I might be pregnant and not know I’m pregnant but might ever so slightly be pregnant even if that possibility is statistically insignificant but not quite nil, you know?
Maybe the whole pregnancy question is like getting carded for alcohol. You’re annoyed and bothered by the constant heavy-handed questioning…until one day bouncers stop asking you…and suddenly you miss it. All those times you rolled your eyes and let out an audible sigh, in hindsight, that was only a window of time when the world thought you were young.
And this pregnancy question, too, shall pass.
unbabyme 