I am not a fairy.....

I had to undergo two trials by fire this week. The first was a visit to the dentist for a really nasty scale and clean. Think of your average 6 monthly trip to the dentist for a bit of a scrape and multiply it by 10. I need to have super-duper scraping done down under the gum line, and the tartar is stuck on with superglue down there. The only way to do it and survive is to have 1/4 of the mouth done at a time, to undergo the treatments a few weeks apart, and to have a bunch of injections into the gum to numb the pain.

It was all done by a lovely lady, who ripped and tore and crunched away at my teeth - she would have made a good hard rock miner. The end result was a bib covered in bits of tartar and big blobs of blood, and a nose so numb I couldn't feel half of it. I was also a bit freaked out and white as a sheet - I am not big on needles, especially needles into the gum. I think the only thing that would be freakier would be a needle into the eyeball, and I am not lining up for one of them every two weeks.

The procedure only lasted 45 minutes, but it set me back $230, and I finished with a nice case of the shakes and a pallor that was as white as the Adams Family. I asked them to crank up the air con, as dentistry gives me the sweats, but I still left a huge wet patch on the dentists couch. It ran from my neck to my knees - I was glued to the couch with sweat.

It's just one of those bloody things that one has to put up with - it's either that, or end up with false teeth in 30 years time, and I am less keen on that idea than a needle in the gums every few weeks. It wouldn't be too bad if it was just one needle, but there are multiple nerves in the gum, so you need to get prodded half a dozen times with the needle. Once is bad - six times is torture. I just lay there thinking of the book, "Marathon Man", which was turned into a movie starring Dustin Hoffman. If you don't know the plot, then you are lucky. It added to peoples fear of dentistry the same way that Jaws did it for swimming and sharks.

The lesson is - floss every day.

The second trial was riding home tonight. The weather set in around 2pm - rain, cold and biting wind. When I made it home, I flicked on the ABC news and found that the temp was 9 degrees, but the wind chill made it seem like half that - 4.5 degrees! Thankfully, there is a Kathmandu shop in our building, so I was able to duck in at the end of the day and pick up a $20 fleecy shirt thing to wear under my cycling shirt. It's one of those fancy things that keep you dry and warm etc. Only problem was it was on special because they were getting rid of all the stock that was Tony size, so it hangs on me like a chaff bag. If it wasn't for that, I would have arrived home as a frozen popsicle.

I was not the only idiot cycling home - I came up behind a bunch in Pyrmont, but they were all dawdling like pansies in the rain, and I left them in a rooster tail of spray from my back tyre. Not that I was going that fast - the roads were as slippery as a wet pussy and the rain was punching hard into my eyelids like demented bees. I have these wonderful wrap around ballistic type sunnies that are perfect for this type of weather, but I couldn't wear the bloody things as it was too dark. I had to wear my normal glasses, which fogged up faster than a bathroom mirror, so I had the choice of getting my eyeballs poked by raindrops, or riding with zero visibility.

I think the first horrid moment was that trickle of cold water that gets into your shoes after negotiating the first reasonable sized puddle. The impact of cold water on feet is never a fun thing. Then you get the flush of cold water right up the date from the spray coming off the rear tyre. Add to that is the impact of freezing rain on your forehead just between the bottom of the helmet and the top of your glasses.

I was about 30 seconds out of the office carpark when I started reciting, "I am not a fairy, I am not a fairy", and I kept that up until I got home half an hour later. I think I recited it at least 360 times. I didn't stop and phone home for a pickup, so I am not a fairy. I am not a fag. I passed the test, whatever the hell it was. I think my gums also started bleeding from the effort.

Cycling is one of those things that is 50% physical stamina and 50% willpower. I think I wanted to prove that I had the willpower to push it through some truly miserable conditions. I made it, but now I feel totally fucked. I'm getting too old for this crap.