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Fangs
My teeth make me feel old. I have generally healthy teeth and a slightly overly aggressive approach to taking care of them, but a few of my choppers are themselves rather hostile.
The other night, one of my teeth broke again, which necessitated the emergency trip to the dentist with Felix in tow and my mother serving as waiting room babysitter. I have two more visits that I can happily schedule without my mother's assistance, but without a quick patch-up I would not be able to go out in public without one of those still semi-fashionable flu-scare face masks on. And talking clearly would be difficult.
What is it about tooth problems that make me feel decrepit? This particular tooth isn't even troublesome because of my age or anything more than one day of bad luck about 15 summers ago. I was running for the subway (the number 1 uptown train, Felix would insist I specify) and pitched down a flight of stairs at the station. I broke two front teeth then. Somehow a third got involved a bunch of years later. Various remedies have been tried, and keep falling out or breaking or (probably) falling victim to poorly directed angst, and I think I have to bite the bullet now and just get the stupid thing crowned.
I remember once reading an essay that Stephen King wrote about writing horror in which he discussed how eyes are tremendously horrible for being so vulnerable and squishy (among other things). But when this thing happened the other night, all I could think is the I couldn't possibly show up at Felix's school looking the way I did. (In the end I got some temporary glue paste stuff at the late drugstore and cobbled things together enough so that I wouldn't terrify the kids.)
Things are far from pretty now, but at least I'm not looking less like an out of season witch.
And Felix got a new toothbrush out of the visit, so at least he can profit from my poor luck.
posted by Elise at 3:49 AM
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