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| - Dear Teeth,
It's been so long since I've heard from you. I feel a void in me where you left, an abyss I cannot fill. Though I know we have spent years apart in silence, I feel an urging, a compulsion to tell you what is on my mind, and I fear that if I do not tell you, the regret shall consume me.
Cut it the fuck out. Stop trying to sprout extraneous, impacted molars. It is tearing up my gums, swelling my jaw shut, and forcing me to resort to my liquor cabinet as a means of killing the pain. (That whiskey I had for breakfast wasn't cheap, by the way.)
This is no way for a grown woman to live, forced to stay home holding ice packs to her face while the world around her has the time of its life.
You humiliated me at Clarice's Halloween party. Do you have any idea how ridiculous I looked, grinding all the food into a slurpable pulp with my bare hands? Those gloves I wore weren't cheap either.
I even missed a birthday party last night because you suddenly decided you needed MY WHOLE MOUTH to do whatever it is you do when not tearing through chicken wings and lo mein. Nope, wouldn't even let me open it wide enough to fit a straw in there so I could drink my dinner.
This uneven arrangement has become more than I can handle. I give, give, give. Flossing. Brushing. Lots of calcium. I have, in my infinite love and devotion to my own comfort, done everything I can to keep us from needing dental work.
Surely you remember our last experience at Avondale Dental. The long hour wait for our appointment. The tedious and condescending dental hygienist. The forceful way they jerked my mouth around. The "dentist" who popped his head in long enough to make a remark about my large head before stepping back out to deal with an OBVIOUSLY more important patient.
I have done everything I can to spare us from reliving that awful experience.
But so help me Eris, if you don't cut it the fuck out in there, I will go there tomorrow. And I'll find the greenest, heavy-handed person working there and pay them cash to start ripping you out with a wrench.
And then I'll ask them if I can keep you so I can keep you in a can of coke and watch you dissolve.
Teeth, you better wise up and cut the bullshit. If you got any wisdom, that is. There. I think I've adequately hinted at what kind of teeth are bothering me.
We have other twenty years together. I don't want to throw that away in some dentist's waste disposal. Please don't make me do something that we and my wallet will both regret.
Yours,
Jetta
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