At Least I Have A Matching Set.

The polar ice caps are melting and receding at an unprecedented rate and so, apparently, are my gums. That was the news from my dentist this week. What fun! Perhaps my mouth is a barometer for the world environment. If only we could dispense with pollution as easily as I whisk the goop off my tongue with my scraper. If it were that easy to rid the world of its troubles, George Bush and Stephen Harper would be awash in a sea of Listerine as we speak. Alas no.

Currently, my teeth are the picture of health. White, straight, big and strong. My teeth could kick Poland's teeth ass anyday! I have Aryan teeth you know. But that was not always the case. I endured headgear for almost four years. And I don’t mean the regular one band around the back of the head kind either. It was headgear built for Hannibal Lecture. The kids that sat behind me in school would grab hold and say things like “giddy up” and “easy boy, easy”. No one would come near me when there was lightening around either.

That was followed by almost three years of braces. Not all bad as it turned me off gum for life and helped establish excellent oral hygiene habits that are in place to this day.

The reality however, is that hardly a visit to the dentist went by without a cavity. There are more holes in my teeth than in a 5lb block of Swiss cheese. Mr. and Mrs. Plaque take the young ones on summer vacation to my molars to see the microbial equivalent of the Grand Canyon. The veneer of my teeth is supposedly quite thin and in time will disappear all together (much like the ozone layer, hmmmmmmmmmmm?) and I have very acidic saliva that does nothing but compound the problem. Fun indeed.

The dentist took x-rays to “monitor the retreat” and if it gets bad, we will “talk about possible solutions”. What solutions? Does she mean skin grafting? From where, my butt? At least when I tell someone to kiss my ass, it would be a good thing, for I am a good kisser you see. Or does she mean dentures? Looking back at the old family history, this is a distinct possibility.

Grandpa Cosby took a bite of a burger once and when he looked down at the bun saw one of his teeth sticking out of it. He didn’t bite into anything hard, it didn’t hurt, the tooth just fell out. His dentist decided to ‘assist’ the rest and he soon found himself fitted with dentures. Which, by the way, he loved to drop down in his mouth in order to scare his Grandchildren. That is how my sister got stitches in the back of her head –backing away from him too fast and into the wall.

Not much I can do about it right now. No change in diet or brushing needed. I just got a bum deal in the old teeth department. Oh well, I can only hope my waist line recedes along with my gums and my hair.