Toothsome

During the brief moment I was in college I snacked on Domino sugar cubes because they were cheapest “candy” I could find.

When I first lived in New York City my daily breakfast was a frosted cherry danish from a sidewalk vendor and a Coke from the office vending machine.

When Kris and I were first doing it, I gave up all sugar for Lent one year.  I lived on dates and raisins and I suffered.  Oh how I suffered.  But not as much as Kris who many years later had it written into my marriage vows that I shall never pull that shit again.

After Arlo’s birth when I had to do everything with one hand (because he was in the other), I started eating a pack of graham crackers with my morning coffee.  I did this until he was two years old.

I have taken and left cigarettes, booze and drugs but I break out into a cold sweat if evening approaches and stores are about to close and there’s no sugar in the house.  Who am I kidding?  I MAKE SURE THAT NEVER HAPPENS.

Upon returning to the States this January when access to things like, oh, bags of plain M&Ms was once again wild and free, I imbibed with reckless abandon.  I was not surprised then when a couple of months later while chewing cheese pizza I felt a crunch and thought – that’s weird.  Cheese pizza isn’t …… oh my crap.  That’s my tooth.  Yeah.  All that candy-coated chocolate bit me in the ass.  To be fair, the 20-something me must share responsiblity for this damage because she thought it important to have a flimsy porcelain crown on her molar.  The 40-something me realizes only opera singers and porn stars need to look pretty with their mouths wide open.

Fast forward to yesterday’s appointment at the dentist to get my half-crown replaced.  Topical numbing solution applied, I garbled “it duzzint matter if I’m pregnant duzzit?  yur no ding x-rache r you?”  Off snapped the gloves, off went the light, up went my chair and the dentist said “Rinse. This appointment is over!”  Then he congratulated me, explained very nicely how elective procedures were not done during the first two trimesters (when the organs are forming) and sent me on my way.

No needles?  No lockjaw? No cottonmouth?  Oh Pregnancy!  Is there nothing you can’t do?  *swoon*  I love you so much.  I left the office and spent the remaining hour of babysitter time browsing a fruit stand and a furniture store.  I should have got a donut and a pedicure.  I was off my game.

No more M&Ms until December.  Or very, very few.  Certainly not everyday.  I will protect you until winter Dear Tooth, though quite frankly you don’t deserve it with your weak-ass veneer.  Until then look forward to fudge and cookies.

On a related note, I very much want this as my cookie candy jar:

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5 thoughts on “Toothsome

  1. Pingback: Runts « Black Panty Salvation

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