Thursday, 2 December 2010

Snaggle Tooth

Today I spent ten minutes in the park squinting at my digital camera screen trying to see a piece of food I supposedly had stuck in my teeth. The little boy kept pointing and talking in French and saying 'pay attention' which is the only thing French people ever seem to say to me and I can't work out if they are actually saying 'pay attention' or if they are saying something that sounds like 'pay attention' and coincidentally means something similar. (In fact for all I know I could be mishearing people and in fact they are not telling me to watch out all the time; they are actually calling me a straw of temptation which sounds quite similar- paille a tentation.)

Finally I had the sense to switch my camera on and take a photo of my teeth, rather than struggling to look at my reflection in the black screen. I looked at the picture and could see there was nothing in my teeth. The little boy kept prodding my teeth and saying things in French so I zoomed in a bit closer. I still couldn't see anything so I showed him the photo and said 'What? What do you keep pointing at?' It was then that I realised he wasn't prodding at my tooth, he was pushing it. The whole time he hadn't been trying to tell me I had something in my tooth, he had been trying to warn me that one of my teeth is crooked and crosses over the other one and he was also trying to push it back into place for me. I don't know the French word for 'snaggletooth' so I just told him 'It is always like that, it's normal' to which he raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'Honey, there's nothing normal about being a snaggletooth.'

I remember the exact moment the dentist announced that my teeth were going to cross over. In the calm, I-don't-give-a-fuck manner that I have encountered in many health professionals, he announced to me and my mum that 'It will probably get worse and worse as she gets older, eventually it will cross over her front tooth completely.' My mum nodded and the dentist nodded and I stood up, panic-stricken and cried "But there must be something you can do!!!!?" I can't remember exactly what the dentist said but it was something along the lines of "No there's nothing. Or nothing I can think of right now and frankly I can't be arsed."

It was the same feeling of horror I experienced when I went to the doctors aged seventeen with a mysterious coldsore-like creature that was clinging to the very tip of my nose. The doctor said "Don't worry, it's not really anything. Don't be alarmed if it spreads over the rest of your face." That is why I do not go to the doctors or the dentists anymore. Even if all my limbs and then my head fell off I would not go to the fucking doctors. I should probably get myself a dentist though; zooming in on my snaggletooth wasn't exactly a confidence boost. Maybe instead of a nose job I should invest in cosmetic dentistry first? Maybe if I stopped drinking eight cups of tea a day my teeth would be brighter and whiter, but then what would be the point of living if I had to give up tea?

No comments:

Post a Comment