Crybaby Cheers Up

Ahhhh. I'm in my pajamas, filled up with Thai food (it's soft! it's tasty!) looking forward to The Vampire Diaries. Tomorrow's monologue is learned, and I think the last vestiges of Xanax are warding off early-onset stage terror.

Today was not a laugh riot (well, amend that: there was one moment that threatened to send me into one of my hour-long giggle fits--a new cast member erroneously sang that a certain tabloid-staple starlet has had a sex change) but I got through it all with much less trembling and sweating than expected. Also I sternly reminded myself that I am not a Chilean miner who just spent 69 days underground, that I'm just being a big ol' baby, and to suck it up.

First there was a 3.5 hour rehearsal, most of which was simply hard work, and I enjoyed both the work and the distraction. Then there was the last 45 minutes, in which I cringed with embarrassment while repeatedly blowing my lines on a solo I was supposed to have memorized. That was...avoidably humiliating. The avoidable kind is the worst, wouldn't you agree? There was also the disconcerting "meeting" at the beginning where we all got told off for various things and also learned that two cast members, the director's assistant and the stage manager have all resigned or been "released" in the past week, and no one really wants to hear stuff like that. It does not inspire confidence, or warm fuzzies.

Then there was time for a quick lunch before popping my little pink pill, and an hour later I didn't so much mind being driven to the dentist. In fact, I was looking forward to a little rest while watching Couples Retreat (I ask you, why was this movie even made? To give all those people jobs? There wasn't even a story--just a series of sketches in which they humiliated themselves doing yoga with a guy in a speedo.) I made the dentist and her assistant giggle when I went on and on (oooh, this is just coming back to me, not so good) shouting "DAMN! I see myself in the TV and this is NOT a good look for me! DAMN! Not at all!" I vaguely remember wondering what they were laughing about.

Anyway, the thing was long (90 minutes, just like she said) but she did three fillings instead of two. I watched most of the bad movie and the only thing I minded was the occasional glimpse of myself with my mouth prized open in some metal contraption and swathed in pink shiny plastic. That is just not right. And my jaw is incredibly sore because of it. Not even my teeth--just my jaw. "I have a really teeny mouth," I told her after. "It's true, you do," she said. "I can't really open it too much." Clearly, she didn't agree.

D and J picked me up and got me a slushie, and I read magazines in my new Private Reading Nook at home (no one is allowed in without the magic password) while holding an ice pack to my face. Not sure if it was the cold or what, but all the numbness was gone in less than three hours, while last time it took six and a half (!) for one teeny filling. I will have to investigate. In the mean time, I'm grateful I didn't starve.

Tomorrow I'll be able to say "What fresh hell is this?" But tonight, I must confess I'm relieved.