If I were to tell you that I had another mouth-related tragedy, would you believe me? I mean, after my surprise wisdom tooth removal, I basically felt that I had been wronged in every possible way, violated to my very core, and that I would likely be safe for a while. But nooooooooo. Today was WORSE.
I had an appointment to pick up my Invisalign. I ordered them about 5 weeks ago, and have been really anxious to straighten up my lower teeth before the wedding. Sure, I had braces as a child, but what self-respecting teenager heeds the wisdom re: retainer use? Not this one. Anyway, I was excited to pick them up and start being sexaaaay. Or “theckthaaaay” I suppose, since I am having a difficult time with the letter “s” at this point, with all this plastic in my mouth.
But as I sat in the chair, happily awaiting my key to oral beauty, I noticed the orthodontist fiddling with something. The hygienist then placed a pair of dark sunglasses over my eyes. They looked like Oakleys. Something was amiss. I then heard the revving, piercing, terror-inspiring sound of a drill. Apparently, in order to make all of my bottom teeth fit into my, well, bottom-teeth-arena, they have to “slenderize” some of the bottom ones. Cute. What are you going to do, Doc? Rub some TrimSpa on my teeth and hope for the best? Nope. What he was going to do, and then what he proceeded to do, was drill between my bottom teeth to remove enamel and create gaps between them. Which sounds like a terrible idea on a number of levels, least of which being that I was under the impression that my tooth enamel was the main substance protecting me from cavities. But there he was, happily drilling away without the benefit of Novocaine. It smelled like burning, I was absolutely RIGID with fear, and then, out of nowhere BAM!!! He hit a nerve. I started to cry, he moved on to another tooth. A couple of teeth later, POW!! More pain. But he just kept moving on to different teeth, while fat, mascara-colored tears slid down either side of my face (into my ears since I was on my back).
I am FURIOUS about this. I was just starting to get my big-girl-pants about dental procedures, and this assclown comes along and sets me back 15 years. What’s worse is that he’s an ORTHODONTIST. He’s not supposed to hurt me. He’s supposed to prettify me. Dentists are the ones who are supposed to come at me guns-a-blazin’ with instruments of torture. Plus, I was a little miffed that he told me he was “nowhere near a nerve” on the painful teeth, and that I “probably just have some slight heat sensitivity.” Yeah, fuck you, sir. How about I light your foot on fire and then tell you that you’re probably just a heat-sensitive little wussmobile? How ’bout that?! Sadly, he’s a highly respected orthodontist, so I can’t even call him a quack. Instead, I’m just going to refer to him as a sadist, and probably cry myself to sleep on the nights before appointments.
So now I’m at home, still very emotional and shaky, and I have this tray on my lower teeth so I can’t even eat a sizable hunk of my 10 lb chocolate bar to console myself. Which I’m pretty sure is going to be super for my abs, so maybe I should start looking on the bright side of this. But you know what else would be super for my abs, but probably hurt less? Liposuction.