My parents took me to the ER, where they looked at us and said, "uhm, you need a dentist..." I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but that night, around 11pm I ended up in a pediatric dentists chair, getting a new front tooth.
I remember coming home with my parents and my brother and sister were both equally impressed that this self-inflicted wound was fixed so fast.
Flash forward to 9th grade, I need braces. Should be an easy thing right. Slap 'em on, get tortured from your siblings for a year and a half, "brace-face", get 'em off and have beautiful, straight teeth. Well, all my teeth cooperated except one. The man-made, front right tooth. It kept turning funny, so my orthodontist had to bend the wire funny to compensate.
When I got the braces off, my teeth were perfect. For like a year. Then the trouble-maker decided to take a turn, and has stayed there ever since.
My bionic tooth held up all the while I had braces, straight through high school, problem free in college and then I get engaged.
Its like the tooth KNEW this was an important time in my life so it needed to make its presence known. Yes, I'm convinced my tooth has it in for me. I go in to the dentist for my 6 month cleaning and part of it pops off. Right there, in the hygienists hand, she's holding part of my tooth. "Uhm, Doctor?"
He re-bonds my tooth, and sends me on our honeymoon.
Again, everything is fine for a few years. But then Easter, '07, my tooth decides to take a vacation while I'm enjoying my Easter basket. So in between bites of my Charleston Chew (ever had one? Yeah...they rock my world too) I realize part of my tooth is on my tongue. Craaaaap.
Fast forward to two months ago, I have strep throat. I'm trying to open the throat spray and its Erin-proof. I use my fingers, nothing. Scissor, nada. Knife, almost cut myself. So I think, "just bite it open".
Here's how I KNEW I was sick- I NEVER USE MY TEETH TO OPEN ANYTHING because I have a man-made tooth. I know my tooths limitations. Did I listen to myself? Hellz no, I use my teeth.
And there it was. Part of my front tooth on my tongue. Again. Now, imagine, I cannot swallow, all I want to do is crawl in bed and sleep for a few days, and I've got part of my tooth on my tongue.
So I go and get it fixed. I hang my head in shame when my dentist asks "how'd this happen, Erin?". The whole time I was explaining to him, I was rolling my eyes at myself, because I KNEW I shouldn't have done it. Whatever.
And now, as I'm typing this I'm running my tongue over my smooth, freshly buffed tooth, because YET AGAIN I busted off a shard on Sunday night (and got it fixed yesterday).
Here's the thing, I don't have bad teeth. I've had fillings in like, two of my teeth and one that constantly needs attention. I'd get a veneer, but then I might put my dentist out of business, and I like seeing him and his staff. They are friendly.
