The Year of the Teeth

Coffee smile_small

Vanilla, mango, strawberry, mixed berry, vanilla and cinnamon, cheesecake, apple pie, vanilla creme, steamed pudding, chocolate, French vanilla. These are all different types of yoghurt. Who knew there were so many flavours? Not me until the last 13 days when I have mostly existed on the above long list of acidophilus-laden liquids.

In fact, I’m pretty sure my pores have started to seep that invisible good bacteria that yoghurt is mythically supposed to possess and I’ve also started to ponder whether it’s possible to overdose on calcium.

Over the last two weeks, I have also been very fortunate to indulge in a spot of soup, risottos and smoothies – but very little else. Good for the waist-line admittedly but what I wouldn’t give to eat a huge rump steak, a wagyu beef burger, or even a whole cow – just knock it on the head, pop it on my plate with an extremely sharp knife and I’ll give it a crack. Can you believe I used to be a vegetarian?

The problem is at the moment chewing is definitely out of the question hence my dire diet of dairy products. In times gone by, my version of a liquid diet often involved cider and ciggies and very little else. Alas, there has been very little alcohol involved – well apart from on Easter Sunday which resulted in me being inebriated enough to neck down a German sausage with all the trimmings very late in the evening.

As I have previously alluded to in this blog, B-Day has officially come and gone. Yep, I am now a 40-year-old born-again virgin who sports a very impressive set of braces. Beautiful. Fancy a kiss anyone?

Over the past few months I’ve had plenty of advice from straight-toothed friends on life with braces. But most of them had the experience when they were teenagers and admitted their memory of it was a bit hazy. All of them, with their spectacular-sets of pearly whites, however said that it had been worth it. But I doubt that very much. In fact I think they are all a big bunch of Hollywood-smiled liars.

For the first week, you see, I couldn’t bite down on anything substantial at all. On day two, I tried to eat a tuna sandwich for lunch at work. That was a big mistake because my mouth was so sore the only way I could eat it was by sucking on it. Now, let me tell you, sucking on a tuna sandwich is not an experience I wish to repeat anytime soon mainly because it is bloody gross.

So it was from that moment that I began my yoghurt overdose – in all its many flavours – for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I am also now starting the “I hate yoghurt” club if anyone cares to join me.

While I have graduated to eating sushi over the last few days, every single grain of rice from every single piece of sushi gets caught in every single tooth-glued brace which you have to admit somewhat takes the enjoyment out of the whole process of eating altogether.

One of my bottom teeth has also moved so much that it now juts upwards like a dagger in my mouth. And it’s a mouth-sword that I can’t stop playing with even though the tooth is also a bit wobbly and I’ve been warned about taking part in such dangerous activities inside my own mouth. But every few minutes I find my tongue running over this jagged tooth-mountain again and again and again. I’ve tried everything to stop but it’s like my tongue is possessed. I am starting to consider just pulling it out with a pair of pliers. Or maybe I should just go back to my orthodontist.

Either way, at least I only have nine months to go before I yank the braces off with my own bare hands, back over them repeatedly with my car, and then thrown them into the river where they can be gobbled up by a bull shark with a charming crooked smile. I should be about nine kilos lighter by then as well so I suppose it’s not all bad.

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