Oh God, how the redhead haters would love this one…It used to be, you see, that I just had ginger hair. Now? Well, now I have ginger teeth to match. Yes folks, my teeth now match my hair, and while I’m all about accessorising, this is a bit much for even me…
You will, of course, have worked out by now that this is yet another entry about those bloody veneers. Sorry. It’s been a traumatic time for me, though, so please try and bear with me. You see, yesterday, as I left the dental surgery, my dentist warned me that my temporary veneers were so fragile that they were liable to just drop right off at the slightest provocation. What she didn’t tell me was that they were so porous that they’d instantly assume the exact colour of the very first thing I ate after having them fitted. This was particularly unfortunate given that that first thing happened to be…. a bowl of tomato soup.
I actually thought I was being clever with the tomato soup. “Ha!” I thought, slurping away through my still numb lips and gums, and looking a lot like a stroke victim. “My temporary veneers will not fall out! I will eat only soup, and thus will keep them good n’ strong for the full two weeks. I will be THE BEST at having temporary veneers!” Oh stupid, stupid girl.
We were at Terry’s mum’s for dinner (Soup! Orange soup! That I had brought with me because I am SO DAMN CLEVER. Not.) so it wasn’t until a few hours later, when we got home, that I realised what had happened. I went into the bathroom, approached the mirror and, preparing to examine my new veneers now that the Angelina Jolie lips had subsided (would’ve quite liked to keep those, actually), gave myself a big, cheesy smile. And actually? “Cheesy” was the right word: my two veneers were now roughly the colour of Red Leicester. Damn.
I tried to clean them (very gently) with toothpaste. I tried using mouthwash. I contemplated putting a Crest Whitestrip on them, but Terry convinced me that would probably make them turn blue or something, so I gave it up for the night and headed to bed, ready to re-commence battle in the morning. “I may have orange teeth now,” was my final thought before I drifted off into uneasy dreams (and when I say “uneasy”, let me just say I’m sure Kevin Federline featured in my dreams somehow last night, and that makes me feel kind of … dirty) “but at least it can’t get any worse.” HA!
So this morning I get up and head into the shower. As I’m blearily standing there, I reach out my tongue to touch the veneers (gently, natch) and reassure myself that the little guys have made it through the night. There was a small clicking sound, a sensation a lot like that nightmare I keep having, where I’m spitting out all my teeth, (Move over, K-Fed, I already know what tonight’s nightmare will be about) and I glanced down to see something very small and very, very orange lying between my feet. I mean, it was kind of hard to miss it. “Oh please don’t let it be the veneer from the PEG TOOTH, please don’t let it be the veneer from the PEG TOOTH” I muttered as I jumped out of the bath and approached the mirror.
It was the veneer from the PEG TOOTH.
Yes, folks, after 16 years and more than half of my life, this morning I once again found myself face to face with my old nemesis, the PEG TOOTH – and let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty. Oh hell, no.
I think I’m going to try and just forget my teeth for the next couple of weeks. (Hallelujah, I hear you cry). I could get the dentist to stick it back on again, but if that’s how easy it’s going to be to make it fall off again, there doesn’t seem to be much point: I don’t have time for daily visits to the dentist, and also: IT WAS ORANGE. So now, instead of two orange teeth, I have one PEG TOOTH, one orange tooth. I’m just going to grin and bear it (well, actually, I’m not going to grin. Grinning is the last thing I will be doing…) until the proper veneer is fitted.
I’m sure I’ll get used to wearing the bag over my head.