Earlier this week, another front tooth bit the dust. If my memory is correct, then this makes Dental Event Number Nine in my
thirty-seven twenty-five years on earth. It’s a little bit exhausting. It’s a lot expensive.
I would so like to tell you that I lost this tooth white water rafting, that the waves crashed me up against a mossy boulder and bloodied my nose, but that I am such a good swimmer I dove down and retrieved my tooth from the fish-laden river before helping reclaim the floating oars.
I would like to say that I lost this tooth while doing yet another P-E-R-F-E-C-T back-handspring with a round off when an earthquake hit the farm and I had no choice but to crumble to the ground, face first.
I would like to say that I was wrestling our little buffalo, holding him sternly by the horns, when a hay truck drove past the front gate and distracted us both, resulting in a sudden mouth injury from his massive horns.
I would also like to say that I am kidding, that I did not spend half of my week at the dentist and that we are not lining my mouth with paycheck after paycheck. But none of these things is true. I just felt the tooth (it’s actually a crown, per the previous injuries) fall off into my hand as I was about to take a sip of coffee. Simple as that. Quiet. No blood. No pain. No drama. Also no pity.
It seems that aside from adjacent frustration, losing one’s tooth in no spectacular way begs precious little comforting. Anyway, I am so over this. I am thankful, however, to have the crown reattached now, delaying the pricier and far more painful and time consuming implant process.
This is a first-world problem, as my friend Julia likes to say, so I really should stop with the complaining. I am grateful to go to the dentist and to have a dentist I like so much. I am grateful I wasn’t white water rafting, because being a good swimmer is irrelevant if you are afraid of fish. I am grateful that I wasn’t doing back handsprings when an earthquake hit, because I can just imagine how many stickers I would be tweezing out of my hands. And the idea of me wrestling our little buff is silly. He’s a lover, not a fighter.
Happy weekend everybody! Brush your teeth and kiss them goodnight.