I had no idea. I didn't think I ground my teeth in my sleep. Maybe a little snoring, the occasional flail, but grinding? Who would have thought I had such power in my jaw? According to the dentist, our teeth are meant to break through bones. Huh. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, hardcore vegans who say humans weren't meant to eat meat. Looks like our jaws are indeed the jaws of life, ready to take a chomp out of a mastodon.
All the dental work I'm going to need done is costing me coin I don't have. Enter the parental units. I had to resort to the phone call of shame. I'm lucky I can turn to them for such emergencies, but the call was not without the "tut, tut" and "tsk, tsk" and dodging the "why do you grind? can't you stop?" questions.
I won't disclose the full amount. I can't even bring myself to whisper it to friends without hyperventilating. Let's just say someone once told me I could get a house in Newfoundland for this amount. Deep breaths...
I've always had bad luck with my teeth. Before you accuse me of scarfing down bags of candy and sucking down bottles of cola or fiercely chewing gum like Violet Beauregarde, hear me out. I haven't had candy in ages, nor do I drink soft drinks. I'll chew the occasional piece of gum after a garlic-y meal. So what gives? The positioning of my teeth and jaw is what. Maybe stress. I tend to clench when I'm stressed out. But this is after years and years of damage. Years! Frak.
Like I said, at least I'm not pregnant. Worrying about baby teeth and broken adult teeth just might make me crack. Someone get me a grill.
2 comments:
harlot you know you're the other kind of grinder...don't lie.
I don't lie. I swear on my gold tooth.
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