Teeth and the Fat Belly Bag

February 2, 2003

So I went and did the whole wisdom teeth thing for the third and final time on Friday, and holy SHIT does it hurt when they stick needles into the roof of your mouth. Not recommended.

Aside from that minorly excrutiating pain, the tooth-yanking was relatively quick and incident-free…until we got to Wal*Mart.

See, I convinced #2 that we should hit the Mart to get me some pudding and other soft foods, and she spent about a half-hour following me as I tottered around the store with a death-grip on the shopping cart, like an 89 year old lady out on her weekly trip to the market. Except I was still dopey from the nitrous and I kept calling things by the wrong name. Like “can you get that bag of soup?” when what I wanted was a can. I also was having issues with the word “applesauce” and called it “appletape” or something instead, according to #2.

So she went to pay and I went to the bathroom to take my gauze out, because it had been like 45 minutes (15 more than the recommended 30). And when I took out the gauze, oh shit! I started bleeding like I’d just been punched in the face. I had a fun few minutes of racing through Wal*Mart with a mouth full of blood to get a box of gauze so that I could pay for it and stuff it into my mouth to stop the bleeding.

Other than that? Incident-free. I’m even eating real food already.

In other news, I am obsessed with Sasha’s weight. When she was born, she was the runt of the litter and totally had to fight for food all the time, and she was absolutely teeny. And then for a good stretch of her young cathood she was still incredibly thin, but then we found out it was because she had a tapeworm (ew). Once we got rid of that nasty little parasitic bastard, Sash has continued to eat like she did when she was sharing food with the worm, except now there’s no worm to help her eat her food. So she’s getting fat. I feel her little belly on a regular basis and there is definitely a flabby bag of fat forming under there. I don’t know what to do about it though, ’cause I don’t want to get her all freaked out and make her anorexic or anything, but maybe I should get her some diet food or a little cat treadmill or something.

And I’m sure she just LOVES it when I mess with her little fat bag, too. If that pissed-off look she shoots me is any indication.

Speaking of cat food, I think I have to go Krogering so that the kitties can eat breakfast in the morning, because the fam forgot to buy it when they were out today. And I don’t wanna share my oatmeal with the cats tomorrow.


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