Teen Fiction: Of Dentists and Diets
| July 27, 2016
Photo: Shutterstock
"Ee al o at?” asked Shira with her mouth wide open. I peered inside. What was I looking at again?
It was ninth grade and one of my friends was showing me the inside of her mouth during recess. “So the dentist said...” Shira continued with a bunch of jumble I didn’t really understand then “basically I’m going to have to go back weekly and get a whole host of treatments for the next two or three years! And the treatments kiiiiiiill!”
“Oy poor you!” I said.
“You must not really get it” Shira commented at my reaction to her pain.
“I don’t” I admitted. “I mean... the last time I went to the dentist was like... two years ago?” I couldn’t actually remember the last time I was at the dentist.
“So how do you deal with your cavities and stuff?” she asked.
“Cavities? I’ve never gotten one! I actually don’t really know what a cavity is... uh what is it?”
That was the day I realized I’m a rare being.
I grew up on soda and candy; my parents let us have what we wanted and our pantry was always stocked with sugary cereals chips and cookies. I was pretty thin too for a person eating that much junk. But eventually it caught up with me. When high school came around I went through some rough times and it showed on my waistline.
I tried eating healthier but it’s hard when you’re the only one in the family trying to do so. Although everyone else in my family was putting on the pounds too, it didn’t seem to bother anyone else. My friends accepted me as I was, and they never shamed me for how much I weighed. I considered myself a bit overweight and was in denial about the fact that I was pretty much the heaviest kid in my class up until a few months ago. One day I looked around the classroom and finally faced reality. That’s when my weight started to bother me.
But it’s been a while since 9th grade. I now live in a different town and have different friends. I was shopping with my good friend Michal a few months back, at the beginning of 12th grade, and while she was trying desperately to find something that wouldn’t make her look like a stick, I was desperate for something that didn’t make me look like an elephant. I kept asking Michal if something made me look fat and she would answer honestly.
“Hadassi,” Michal said at some point, “it doesn’t matter what you look like on the outside, what matters is what’s on the inside.”
“Says the one whom is like an XXS!” I claimed.
“You know,” Michal said, “it’s hard being an XXS, too. How many times has your mom asked if I’m okay?” Michal asked me as she leafed through another rack of skirts.
“I get that it’s hard for you to find clothes too but if I’m gonna have a hard time finding clothes, I’d rather have your waistline than mine! Plus, you eat whatever you want and you don’t gain a pound!” I said as I picked up a shirt, held it up against me, and then put it back on the rack.
“Okay, I get what you mean,” Michal answered. “But seriously, you are so pretty. You have amazing hair, great green eyes, and there’s lots of you that’s beautiful despite the fact that you’re a larger size. Besides all that, you have an amazing neshamah, and that’s the ikar, got it?” That ended the conversation for the time being.
Fast forward a few months. I’m shopping on the computer for shirts. That’s when I realize I’m an Asian XXXXXXL. I don’t want my size to depress me, because there’s so much more I need to work on in This World and I need to be upbeat! I called up another one of my skinny friends and complained to her, though she didn’t really understand me.
Last week Michal called, asking if I can go with her to the dentist (somehow I always end up with friends who have dental issues!). I vaguely remember Michal telling me once that she’s traumatized from dentists. (That’s putting it mildly. She even bit one, once.). But this story is about me, not Michal, so I’ll leave it at that. I agreed to go with her as long as she got permission for me to leave in middle of school with her. Of course we got out early and had a blast hanging out until the appointment time.
“I’m really nervous,” she said when we walked in.
“Michal, don’t worry. You’re just about the healthiest person I know! There’s probably nothing wrong with your teeth,” I say.
Michal nodded absentmindedly.
After the checkup and X-rays, the dentist said, “Michal, you have eight cavities.”
“Only eight?” asked Michal, looking relieved.
“Only eight?!” I exclaimed.
“My sister had 13 last week,” said Michal as she got out of the chair.
Baruch Hashem Michal was very calm but I couldn’t stop thinking about her eight cavities.
“But… but… that means you’ll be getting your mouth drilled eight times!” I proclaimed to Michal. I couldn’t even imagine that! I have no tolerance for pain whatsoever. Luckily, my stomachaches usually last for five minutes or less, and any other pains are virtually nonexistent. Headaches come around once every few months, for a maximum of 15 minutes, and viruses hit me once every two years and only make my life horrible for a day at most. Hashem knows what I can handle.
What’s the mashal in all this, you ask? Well I was sitting on my bed today when I suddenly realized that the whole thing about everyone getting their own pekelach in life is so true! I struggle with my weight and Hashem wants me to learn to take control of myself. He knows I can do it if I give it all I’ve got. It’s part of my life’s “package.” Hashem knows I wouldn’t be able to handle even one cavity, so maybe that’s why no matter how much junk food I eat I don’t seem to get any! But Michal, on the other hand, eats whole-wheat bread with veggies for breakfast and she gets eight cavities! (Though she can also eat as much of anything as she wants without gaining an ounce.)
I don’t know if I’ll ever be a size XS, nor do I need to be, but I do know one thing; Hashem knows what He’s doing. He’s given me a pekel He knows I can deal with. Even if sometimes I fall down, cry, complain, and don’t understand His reasoning. Even when I yell up toward the clouds, “Hashem, what in the world were You thinking?!”
I know many of you are probably thinking to yourselves, “You’re complaining about dentists and weight? What do you know about problems? You can’t imagine what I’ve been through! Abuse, pain, illness, and more…”
Oh, I do know, but those stories are for a different time. For now, what I want to say is that the best way to get across a point is by using a basic example that anyone can relate to, and then to move on to more complex situations. And truthfully, all tzaros are real, no matter how seemingly small.
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