Monday, December 03, 2007
A history of canines.
My dental history reads like a Russian Novel. Hundreds of characters hurtling towards eventual ruin, and not a happy moment in sight.
For starters, my teeth are retarded.
It seems that my canines (The pointy meat-eating teeth in the front), never came in. They just didn't. Where my canines SHOULD have been, there was a gap. So my parents, being the sort who care babout their children, decided to enter me into a journey of Braces, Retainers, Headgear, Veneers, and endless other dental procedures, in order to make me look presentable. To that end I've aided them by losing about 30 retainers in various fast food trash cans, breaking braces in the middle of european vacations, refusing headgear, breaking teeth, losing teeth, etc. Never knowing that they were all the while planning their revenge. It seems that the doctors and my parents plotted in my young days to "Fix" my teeth by pushing back teeth forward, and sharpening baby teeth to look like canines. An aesthetically reasonable decision that came with a caveat.
"Eventually, the baby teeth will rot off. Then we can just put some crowns in and all will be well."
Ah "eventually", may you be far in the future.
Well, time passed and the much feared Wisdom teeth were complete No-Shows, proving ample speculative fodder to jokes regarding my posession of widom.
One day about 2.5 yrs ago, while noshing on a particularly uncooperative frozen banana, "Eventually" chipped my left front baby/faux canine. Not a big chip, and certainly one I chose to ignore.
Eventually, maybe about a year ago, darkness descended on my toof. ("TOOF" is a bad tooth, in the Alf lexicon)
I was faced with the horrible reality that I should probably figure that shit out. So I made a decision to go see a Dentist, as I chewed on the ice from my drink, i felt my molar go. Awwwcrap! now i had 2 repairs. but the Molar hurt. Bad
there was something exposed there. I went to the DDS. He says "We need to fix that molar". I get it fixed to the tune of a cool K, straight out of my pocket. "Now, about your canine. We need to see a specialist, who will fit you with a new tooth."
"It'll involve some slight jaw surgery that i can't do here, but i have a great guy"
So a year later, here i am. My toof doesn't hurt, its not too black, but there it is. Its almost a tribute to my inability to get all my shit together. Every time i flash a smile I'm reminding people "It's ok, but I don't have dental insurance"
I sot of like it. It's extra sharp, almost weapon like. I gnawed on my old phone with it, and the marks were sweet. Moreover it makes me imperfect in a town where that's considered somewhat unique. I also consider it a visual reminder of how much better i need to be doing. Every morning, i wae up, smile, brush my teeth and gently remind myself. "Today, you will get people jobs. Today, you move one step closer to dental insurance."
Not much of a post, i know. But i was feeling self-concious about the toof on Saturday, and felt i should explain myself.