I currently am missing a premolar.
It cracked in half on Friday as a result of a piece of muesli, which is proof if it was needed, that muesli is awful stuff. I’m not talking about that syrupy, honey-coated sugar fest of nuts and oats that is awesome. No, I am referring to the low-G.I, not-a-grain-of-sugar-in-sight stuff that dieticians will tell you is OK to eat for breakfast. Anyway, a spoonful of the latter stuff cause my tooth to split open and start flapping, rather painfully, it must be said.
Off I went to my amazing dentist, who, coincidentally, sent me a text message the day before to announce that she was back in practice (perhaps the DBAWIW curse to dentists has been broken?), who promptly pulled the tooth, leaving me looking like a hobo when I smile (very broadly, admittedly).
Today I have to have an implant at a dental surgeon, which I’m looking forward to about as much as a Comrades Marathon finisher looks forward to another 10km run the day after the race.
Bah! Oh well, hopefully by December or January, depending on how quickly my dental benefits run out on my medical scheme plan, I shall have a fixed set of choppers. This year is dedicated to my teeth, ungrateful mo-fos that that are.