#81

Never had a cavity, I say with that insufferable pride unique to motherfuckers who don't get cavities. Well, what else can I say? Now, even if I did get a cavity, I wouldn't get a filling, because I just don't trust the dentist. I also avoid the doctor. I ignore their advice pretty often, also, basically whenever it contradicts my instincts and knowledge. I instituted this policy five years ago, and my health has, by and large, been excellent, much better than when I visited both regularly and depended on them to do my thinking for me.

A German company makes wooden toothbrushes with hair from special German pigs. Dr. Tung makes a pretty good floss; anything that isn't that thin worthless horseshit Oral-B makes. There are flosses available that are thick and luxuriant, some using silk, some merely essential oils. It's that thickness that you're looking for, that rope. No flat string. I like this fancy French Ayurvedic toothpaste, Tom's of Maine has improved tremendously, but even Colgate and Crest or even just water baking soda is okay, as long as you're brushing and flossing every day. They're right about that part. 

I was born with a propensity to pick at myself, at scabs and scars and blemishes and bites, and still I deal with that, but screwing around with my baby teeth was even better. I really miss having teeth I could afford to, was even supposed to lose. I really miss interacting with loose teeth. On occasion I'll have taken a hit to the mouth that sort of gently unseats a tooth in its socket, but I leave it be through force of will and it heals up. Was a time I woke up bored, went to a mirror, bared my teeth, and chose my left lower eyetooth. It was not loose at all, but within the hour, it was; twenty minutes later I had begun to bleed freely and had almost retreated many times, but I manically soldiered on till euphoria replaced pain and the tooth came free between my forefinger and thumb and I held it up in the bathroom light like an ancient heirloom reclaimed from a still more ancient enemy, that little bloodstained shard of myself.

Both my lower eyeteeth came in huge, true canine teeth, bulging out rudely in front of my lower incisors, which are very long and slim and snugly joined against one another. My top eyeteeth are more humbly situated and sized, but they are large and sharp. Each and every last one of my adult teeth came with massive, deeply buried roots; my dental practitioners have all commented upon my x-rays with some professional interest. I had my top permanent first premolars pulled out when I thirteen (this was the first time I ever got high on  anything [nitrous oxide], and I absolutely loved it), but the surgeon said he dang near shattered the tooth trying to get it out, which was more of a wisdom tooth surgery thing; he showed me on the tooth where the pincers had crushed the enamel and made a stamp. When I got my lower wisdom teeth removed, the surgeon ended up carving holds for the pincers into the tooth with a drill, and at the height of her efforts I felt my jaw bend. She was flecked, above and below her mask, with blood and pus and tooth powder (smells acrid, tastes incredibly, overwhelmingly bitter), and sweat was beading on her forehead and running down her temples. Those bad boys had hooked roots! Huge, hooked roots, like mutant tusks.

Braces were something I resented tremendously, but I had developed a crossbite and it was a medical necessity that it be repaired, or my jaw would twist and I would wear out a few teeth well ahead of time and be left with intact teeth that wouldn't chew. In a different time I would have simply resigned myself to an adult diet consisting of soups, stews, and mashes, or allowed some barbarian neophyte to fully shatter my jaw, then place my head in a cage which held steady lead bars thrust into my flesh in order to "reshape by man's artifice what God has wrought askew." I have learned to be thankful for my time in braces.

Nevertheless, the cosmetic aspect was also stressed, and this I disliked and distrusted, not to mention the pain, discomfort, and cost to my activities (it did considerable damage to my trumpet career, I maintain, which used to infuriate me). As I feared, the braces reduced the excellent and charming gap in my large and beautiful front teeth, normalizing my smile and robbing me of one of my greatest enjoyments. I loved my gap. One of my favorite pastimes and party tricks was to shoot a substantial stream of water from my mouth using nothing but pressure created by my tongue behind my gap. I could shoot water like three or even four feet in front of my face that way! Maybe I looked a little ridiculous to people, but I love my front teeth, which are large enough to be noticeable, especially before the braces when they stuck out more, and I loved my gap, which was my face's number two feature and my smile's number one. 

Thankfully, it was never fully eliminated, as I rudely called a halt to the procedure as soon as the crossbite was fixed. Though they asked me to wear a retainer for years (scam). It has widened a little tiny bit again since, which is nice, and I have managed to chip both front teeth slightly just where they meet at the gap, which is a nice characteristic, but I doubt I shall ever again see its former glory. Lord, but I bummed myself out. I really miss my gap. They had no right, man.

My top and bottom second premolars, and my bottom first premolars, all have very high, very sharp peaks. My second bottom premolars in particular have sharklike hook points atop a high peak of tooth like a microfang. Very weird, sharp side teeth, basically. My molars are normal, what you expect from flat crushing teeth. My premolars, like my bottom eyeteeth, are absurdly canine. My top wisdom teeth came in sort of sideways, pointing out towards my cheek a bit. At least they haven't gotten infected! They had more room to come in whole, see, with my premolars gone.

That's my teeth! For now.


--JL