On Being Discovered....

So it's happened; I've been discovered.  Twice.  It's no big deal (insert arrogant snort here).  

The first discovery happened when I went to my post-operative appointment to check on my gum grafting surgery.  It was my first experience with implants and I'm extremely satisfied.  Surprisingly, the actual grafting procedure itself wasn't THAT bad.  This procedure also confirmed the end of a long battle with dental phobia.  It's only taken 4 years, intense sessions with some laughing gas,  and 12 dental procedures.  This time I didn't even sweat as I sat in the examination chair, which is a real feat for me.  Anyway - the procedure was totally no big deal as evidenced by the discussion being thrown back and forth above my wide open maw.  The banter was light and lively - mostly centered around funny things like what was Bing Crosby's real name, what does TMZ stand for, etc.  Part of me was relieved to think about something other than the slicing and dicing of my gums, but the other part of me was like "maybe you guys should focus - my gums are flapping in the wind here."  All in all though, it was as pleasant as gum grafting can be. 

So I walk into my post-op appointment and my periodontist takes one glimpse in my pearly whites and puffy reds and exclaims, "Tell me we took 'before' pictures!  YOU LOOK AMAZING!"  I know he was talking specifically about my gums and not my overall carriage, but I'm choosing to think that he meant the whole package.  I was very gracious and accepted my high praise for my ridiculously quickly healing gums. 

"Really, I want you to be in my commercial."  Finally - my big break.  Stay tuned.   

My second discovery was last Wednesday morning.  I got out of the shower and walked into my room, quickly closing the door behind me.  I should preface that I'm at my parent's house, staying in my childhood room to welcome my little brother back into the civilized world after serving a 2 year mission in Tempe Arizona.  So I usher my towel-wrapped self into my childhood bedroom, with wide-open blinds.  Also, let me preface that though I'm not an exhibitionist, I have been known to keep my blinds open because there aren't any houses at an angle or position to see inside my bedroom.  But to maintain some modesty, I kneel down, below the line-of-sight of the window sills.  As I sit down to go through my suitcase, my towel slips down past my nether-regions.  

"Oh well, no one can see me."  

This thought ran through my mind at the very moment I turned to the window and looked right into the face with a strange man standing on the roof of my parent's house, facing my room while cleaning the gutters.  You can imagine my shock as I realize that I'm naked, wet, in my childhood room (that threw in a whole new element psychologically) looking at some guy in a winter hat on a cell phone.  Seems like a great time to make a call.  I throw my body to the ground with a little yelp, trying to plaster my wet self to the ground behind my bed.  I was really without options and just started laughing.  I tried to open my suitcase with my toes and with some real difficulty get dressed, which is extremely difficult without showing any body parts at the window.  

Replaying the whole scenario in my mind, I go down stairs, fully dressed mind you, to talk to my mom, who is thrilled because her gutter-cleaner guy just gave her a rockin' discount on her gutters.  

Needless to say, it's been a really busy time lately planning my TV debut highlighting my ridiculously fast healing gums and unveiling my discount procuring booty.  

I really hope nothing ends up on YouTube.