This snippet of text is about a woman’s experience getting a dental crown, which she compares to being a queen. She wanted to be a queen with a real golden crown, but the dental crown she received was not what she expected. It was a lot more complicated and painful than she had imagined. She compares the process of getting the crown to the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, and she imagines herself as a queen attending various events. However, the reality of getting the crown is not as glamorous as she had imagined. The crown is large and uncomfortable, and she has to bite down on a piece of wood for six minutes. In the end, she decides that she would decline the crown if she were ever to become a queen.This snippet of text is about a woman’s experience getting a dental crown, which she compares to being a queen. She wanted to be a queen with a real golden crown, but the dental crown she received was not what she expected. It was a lot more complicated and painful than she had imagined. She compares the process of getting the crown to the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, and she imagines herself as a queen attending various events. However, the reality of getting the crown is not as glamorous as she had imagined. The crown is large and uncomfortable, and she has to bite down on a piece of wood for six minutes. In the end, she decides that she would decline the crown if she were ever to become a queen.
3d royal golden crown with blue diamonds on isolated background. Textured royal golden crown. 3d rendering illustration.
“You are a beautiful princess,” my mother said to the young, tutu-clad Patty as she got ready for her ballet performance.
“Don’t forget your tiara,” Mother continued, handing me a silvery piece of a headband with a little sparkling star on it.
“I don’t want to be a princess. I want to be a queen with a real golden crown.”
I waited a long time for that dream to come true. The big event this year took place on the afternoon before Independence Day. It wasn’t exactly the ceremony I had imagined that morning long ago in my tights and ballet shoes, but it was definitely memorable.
I’d like to say it was a once-in-a-lifetime event, but I’m afraid that’s not true.
The crown was placed at my dentist’s office and it was a lot more complicated than just putting something round on my head. Young me wanted to tell my mother that I was going to wear the tiara after all. Forget the crown. I want to go home.
The first command, “open wide,” conjured up images of Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation on television. I forced myself to focus on the majesty of the occasion rather than what was going on in my mouth. Snapped back to reality by an “oops” from the technician trying to remove my temporary crown, I muttered a muffled “Is something wrong?”
After she assured me that everything was fine, I delved into my fantasy of being a queen, although the crown part was starting to lose its luster.
The dentist showed up just as I was going through the list of “coronations” I had attended. Miss America, Miss Virginia, Miss California, Pasadena Rose Queen… “And here we go,” he smiled as he showed me my crown, which looked nothing like any crown any of those ladies had ever worn.
He had to cut the large crown to fit my small mouth. I compared myself to a piece of wood being planed for a door. Too big doesn’t fit. Too small falls out.
A man of precision, my dentist got it exactly right and soon I was biting down on a piece of wood that was supposed to stay in place for six minutes. Normally, waiting six minutes is no problem unless you do it with a piece of wood in your mouth. Luckily, my time was up when I ran out of women I had seen getting crowns.
My desire to be queen has passed, but if it ever happened, I would decline the crown.
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