My mum says I took her teeth and she wants them back. Preferably
the teeth she had before breastfeeding me drained her of calcium.
I argue that I never asked to be breastfed, but Mum swears my
only word during those years was ‘booby’. Admittedly, I do like
boobs. But since hitting my 30s, I, a child-free woman, have started
experiencing the same dental issues that plagued my mother. It’s
a Pyrrhic victory. I can now tell Mum I officially owe her nothing –
how’s that for gratitude – but I also have to deal with what turned
out to be genetic dental weaknesses.
All the money my parents spent on my orthodontic work has been
lost through time, chronic grinding and my teeth’s desire to be
true to themselves. Go teeth, be true to you – even if that means
migrating halfway across my skull. Add my coffee and dark chocolate
addictions into the mix and I now have a mouth full of darkening,
crumbling, shifting stumps. See-through can be sexy when it’s a
dress or lingerie. Not so much when it’s teeth. And I’ve got that,
too. My enamel went the way of my natural collagen and just bailed.
They’re probably sipping fluoridated mai tais on a tropical beach,
perving on 20-something babes with big white smiles.
If you’ve never had a medical professional tell you your ailment is
“part of getting older”, you haven’t lived. I’ve lived, as my dentist likes
to remind me. Why are my teeth so shit now? It’s part of getting older.
Why are my teeth so weak? It’s part of getting older. You know what
else is part of getting older? Finding solutions that work for you,
despite what the haters say. For example, I worked out if I go to the
beach dressed head to toe in Morticia Addams-style black gowns,
I don’t get burnt. If I feel anxious but want coffee, I order decaf – or
even better, a half-caffeinated, half-decaf coffee. Try doing that in
an urban artisanal roastery in your 20s. Not gonna happen.
My dentist’s solution for my teeth involves multiple expensive and
invasive procedures. All finished off with their favourite topping:
tooth whitening. I’m not convinced. By any of it. I’ve found a better
solution: rip ‘em out and get dentures.
No longer would I wake to aches and pains from grinding my teeth
during dreams about thieving herds of hippopotamuses making off
with my work laptop. I wouldn’t have to brush and floss; I could drink
a carafe of black coffee and red wine any time. I could live again.
My nan had dentures and she lived the dream. She would sit in
bed eating Columbine sweets and reading romance novels all
night, her chompers marinating in a glass of sterilising fluid
beside her. She didn’t have to get up to brush her teeth. When
I stayed with her, I didn’t either, which is how I ended up with
decay between my front teeth by first grade.I hear talk about the downsides of dentures, but never the upsides.
People say they pop out; they’re uncomfortable; everything sags
when you take them out, which just sounds a lot like a push-up bra
to me. The upsides of dentures are limitless: perfect teeth I can
swap out for even-more-perfect teeth whenever I feel like it. A gold
pair for special events; a pointy pair for Halloween; a serrated pair
for sourdough crusts.
I’ve mentioned my plan to three dentists and none of them are
on board, but that’s because I’m their primary source of income.
There’ll come a time when I decide I no longer want to pay for my
dentist’s renovations and I’ll free myself from his shackles. I’m
happy to forge the way forward in this field for those who’ll follow
behind me, tired of the nagging aches and pains of ageing teeth.
You laugh now with your lovely strong smile, but like decay and
plaque, you’ll come around. You’ll all come around.chomping at the bit
CARO COOPER CAN’T WAIT TO SWAP
HER BELOW-PAR TEETH FOR A SET
OF DENTURES.
rant