I learned a lot about myself over this past winter break. I don’t mean in the “soul-searching” kind of way, though. I mean in the “my-wisdom-teeth-completely-descended-and-I-had-no-idea-until-my-dentist-informed-me-about-it-with-a-disbelieving-look-on-his-face” kind of way. You’re probably wondering how I, a 21 year old adult person, didn’t realize her wisdom teeth had grown in. I am also wondering that. I have been wondering that for months now and confused as to how I could have believed I just didn’t have any for the three straight years before my dentist let me in on the truth. It’s weird being the last one to know about what’s going on in your own body.

I also learned that I had to get my brand new fully descended wisdom teeth out as soon as possible. Which is funny, I guess, because everyone I know already had their wisdom teeth removed back in high school, so I am incredibly late arriving to yet another quintessential milestone of youth.

Furthermore, I learned that my wisdom teeth absolutely had to come out sometime in the next couple months since my dental insurance apparently expires the second I graduate college. This seems fake and weird, but then it’s insurance and I don’t know enough about anything to dispute or contest it. What this means, of course, is that my wisdom teeth are coming out over spring break.

While all of my friends are sunning themselves on beaches or living it up in Las Vegas, I will be confined to my childhood bedroom oozing gauze and saliva. When all of my friends return to Kirksville with bronze bodies, I will return with swollen cheeks and holes where my teeth should have been that I have to manually flush out after eating. I’m not saying I won’t still have a glamorous return, I’m just gonna have to try pretty hard to make the chipmunk thing sexy.

Before you ask--I don’t really mind all that much about the timing. I will get to have a bit of a break before I spend days with my head swollen like a balloon. The thing that concerns me most, though, is that I have no clue what to really expect.

I’ve had a lot of friends who have gotten their wisdom teeth removed, so I’ve heard a lot of stories. Also, the internet does a bangup job of showing me the hilarious nonsense people say and do in their post-op state. Some people cry, other people describe their sexual escapades to their mothers in explicit detail. Some probably do both simultaneously. Ideally, I wouldn’t like to do either, though one is infinitely preferable to the other.

At this point, I’m wondering if maybe I should just hire a complete stranger to take care of me for a couple days instead of subjecting my family to whatever I may put them through. It’s one thing to tell a stranger your innermost thoughts; it’s another thing to have to look at your mother over the dinner table and know that she knows.

The silliest thing is that it’s not like I really even have shameful secrets to divulge. I just wouldn’t put it past myself to start making stuff up, you know, because who doesn’t love some good old self-sabotage.

Anyway, this is getting a little bit out of hand and way too deep for a routine oral procedure, so I’m gonna end it on this note: If I sell a calendar featuring me in seasonal attire with my puffy cheeks and drooling mouth, would you buy it?