I hate the number 4. When I was a kid, my great-grandmother once told me that she thought the number four would be involved in her passing. So the years she turned 74 and 84 I would sometimes hold my breath when her name popped up on the caller ID. And 2004? Well, by then I was old enough to just completely trust the Lord. (She’s still alive!)
But I was never really a fan of the number 4 to begin with…not for any particular reason. Nothing traumatic happened when I was 4 years old (In fact, looking back at Christmas pictures…I would say I had been pretty good that year) I don’t remember much of 1994 and I seemed to have gotten through 2004 despite an abrupt end to my soccer and field hockey careers due to a knee injury. I believe I was 14 when I “became a woman” which may have been traumatic to some, but since I was the last of my friends to do so I was pretty excited. And I haven’t hit 24 yet, but I’ll bet it’s good. So there’s really no good reason not to like the number 4 other than the simple fact that I don’t. And I never really have. I don’t do anything in fours and I even think the name four is kind of stupid. Now I think I finally have a reason...
4 cavities.
Yep. How I can go 22 years without a single cavity and then manage to get 4 the year that I don’t have dental insurance is beyond me. I mean I guess I shouldn’t be too shocked. All I’d have to do is take a look back at my blog posts about sweets from the past year and I think I can easily spot the culprit.
So I think it’s time to take a little break from sweets for a while (if only until I get dental insurance) for the sake of my teeth. In the mean time, Jess and I are lobbying for her older brother Paul to fill my cavities for his final exam for his MCAT. Hope that works out!
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