I mentioned something yesterday that got some of you a little concerned.
I think it was the fact that I need to have my 2 broken front teeth replaced.
And I think I promised all of you that I would explain myself a little better.
It was the summer after 4th grade. Just a few days after school had ended and I had a gymnastics recital that night. I was playing in my (at the time, unfinished) basement with my neighbors, Mo and her sister Moo. We were cops and robbers or runaways and evil orphanage owners or something equally ridiculous. And we were chasing each other around the basement. The floor was cluttered with old mattress/doggy beds and busted bean bag chairs that were leaking their little Styrofoam bead balls all over the place.
And then I tripped. I was running around one of those support beams and tripped over something. But, miracle of miracles, I was fine. Then, rather than let me get up on my own, Mo tried to just lift me off the ground. Well, turns out she wasn’t as strong as she thought (or I was heavier than I looked) and she dropped me. And I landed tooth down.
In retrospect it’s a miracle that I didn’t smash my nose into a million pieces. I mean, I quite literally face planted. The nose should have been the first thing to go.
Instead, I cracked out a perfect arch from my 2 front teeth. Center the tip of your pinky between your 2 front teeth. Now imagine that space is missing.
Enter panicked wails.
I was terrified! My tongue immediately flew up to my teeth and as soon as I felt the space I started wailing like an ambulance siren. I ran up the stairs, totally freaking out! My mom sent up to my room to calm down and find some shoes while she called the dentist. I made the mistake of looking in the mirror–that just amped up my screaming. When I came downstairs, my mom sent me to the basement to help Mo search through a puddle of my spit to try and find my teeth. But with all the bean bag beans on the ground there was no such luck.
I was so scared–and I kept saying it over and over. Partly b/c I was afraid of getting in trouble and partly I think b/c I thought that I should be scared. I mean, I was missing parts of my mouth.
I spent the next few hours in the dentist’s chair (this is actually the reason I love my dentist. He took me from having fangs to having a normal smile again). When it was all said and done I felt a little like a beaver–my old teeth had been kind of small and these were, well, they needed a few days to settle before we could file them down to a size that fit my mouth a little more comfortably. I couldn’t eat blueberries or drink soda or anything that could stain my teeth for the next week and for a month after that I had to brush immediately after I ate anything with a “vibrant color.”
The only hiccup to the new teeth is that they were supposed to be temporary bonds. I should have had them for a few years and then gone back to get my permanent bonds put on. But year after year the dentist would take a look and say “well, they still look pretty good. We can hold off on this for another year.” Now my dentist has moved on to greener pastures (or retired, it’s hard to figure out which) and I’ve moved out of state. I want these new teeth put on now so that I can get them whitened before the wedding. It’s not that they need it, per se, but the downside to having 2 fake teeth is that you can’t really whiten them. Your teeth can only get as white as those were and if you over whiten you end up with 2 oddly discolored front teeth. And no one wants that.
But you know what? I don’t hate that it happened. Oh sure, it kind of put a damper on Mo and I’s friendship for awhile but we were 10, what did you expect? I ended up with a pretty great smile and an equally great story to tell. I was always good at “2 truths and a lie” b/c no one believes that that a 20-something has fake teeth.
Mo and I are still friends to this day. And I gave her a good story too. Since my teeth-bashing Mo has gone on to dislocate our friend Ben’s shoulder, break a girl’s hand playing field hockey, and nearly get her boyfriend clobbered after she nailed a kid w/a snowball she threw from a ski lift. It’s become one of our fond memories, a good story to bust out at parties. I was her first victim!
So there you have it. That is the story of my two front teeth…my two front teeth…my two front teeth.*
*And yes, you ARE supposed to be reading that to the tune of “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth”!