My (new) fat year: back on the wagon (5¼lb)

I didn’t so much as fall off the wagon as step off. It started two weeks ago tomorrow, Saturday.

We were doing some “heavy manual” work for my mother-in-law. She’d had a skip delivered and we knocked down two sheds to fill it with – along with most of the contents.

It was a gloriously hot day and we were sweating buckets. And so, I “stepped off” the wagon for just one day …

The next day, Sunday, I broke a tooth. A big tooth from the very top back. A whole quarter of a tooth had fallen off and I was scared to eat anything.

Fortunately, we both had dental appointments the next day. These were new patient registration appointments, though. So our new dentist would only be able to perform emergency tooth-edge-smoothery. And I was booked in for a week and a half later to have the tooth either filled or removed.

She wanted to remove it really. Honestly, all my life dentists have been wanting to take out my teeth, mostly to straighten those that would be left. But that meant removing probably four perfectly healthy teeth, and I wasn’t having any of it.

One of the reasons we left our old dentist was because he too had decided that I needed to lose about three teeth. Three! He also wanted to do some scary stuff to my gums too, and I’m afraid I ran to the hills.

The main reason, though, was  because we’ve moved too far away. And now this new dentist also wanted to remove a tooth.

But this dentist had a point. The tooth was cracked from front to back, and I’d decided that if our doctor would let me have some diazepam, then I’d have the tooth out.

Not only did the doctor agree, but a few days later another chunk of tooth dropped out, leaving a massive hole.

Reader, I had the tooth out. Yesterday.  And it didn’t come easily as, aside from what was left crumbling every time she tried to grab it, apparently it also had two roots.

And those three teeth my old dentist wanted? Nothing wrong with them. And she had no intention of recommending the gum work either as, apparently, my apparently infected gums aren’t infected at all. (Although she conceded that there had been some gum disease there previously.) And it’s been 18 months since we saw a dentist.

Ah yes, and diazepam? Overrated. Mind you, the poet said that I was already so chilled he wondered if the dentist wanted me comatose! (I’m just not chilled about dentists.) (Or being too close to the surface of the very deep sea.)

So, while I did manage to lose another 1lb after all of that hard labour, eating mush for nearly two weeks combined with eating what I want (i.e. lots of comforting sweets) is not conducive to weight-loss.

However, I’m back on the wagon from … tomorrow, I think (Saturday), and I’m not beating myself up over an overall gain of ½lb.

Onwards!