I keep them on a necklace

11 02 2012

So today I had my regular dental check-up.

I was scheduled for X-rays this time, and afterwards had just settled in for the cringing that I associate with the many grotesque instruments that my friendly dental hygienist uses. (She’s a lovely lady, and very gentle despite having an extensive array of home improvement tools laying in wait on her sterile tray). As I waited for her to select the first instrument of torture (which turned out to be the innocuous looking mirror-to-you-soul), in strode the dentist.

She took a look at the X-rays, muttered “very good, very good”, which, frankly terrified me, as I interpreted it as “They’re all rotten and must come out, sans anaesthetic, NOW!” She then had me open my mouth, and while spraying air to dry each tooth, looked carefully at my gnashers, each in their turn. There was some muttering about odd pockets which had me reaching to protect my wallet, and then a too-wide smile from the dentist declaring that I had the teeth of a teenager, and they were actually very good!

dentalequipmentsite.com: Choosing dental tools

dentalequipmentsite.com: Choosing dental tools

As the dentist departed (most expensive 5 minutes any dental plan ever pays for), my hygienist asked me to confirm that I had in fact been brought up in the UK (which in Canada it seems, is synonymous with “bad dentistry”). This to the guy with the broadest Yorkshire accent this side of the Pennines! Confirming that, she asked if my parents had sent me to the dentist regularly, as I grew up. Nope, not particularly. Wow! I learned that (not unsurprisingly!) she’d seen many many mouthfuls of teeth, and really, in actual fact, mine were, really very good! “You must have good genes!” Yes, and they were a little damp now…

And the teeth of a teenager? Yes, I do have them. On a necklace in my bedside drawer. Mwa. Mwahaha. Mwahahaha.

TribalMania: Fijian tooth necklace

TribalMania: Fijian tooth necklace

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11 responses

11 02 2012
sheriji

That necklace is really creeping me out.

I have my children’s baby teeth in little tins. They creep me out, too, but I’m afraid I’ll be revealed as a “bad mother” if I throw them out. Any suggestions?

11 02 2012
misfits' miscellany

You could always give them back to their owners.

11 02 2012
sheriji

But then I’d have to explain how I got them back from the tooth fairy.

12 02 2012
misfits' miscellany

If the tooth fairy is still in the game, then you’re stuck with the tins. You could always try to do a Schrodinger-style Barton Fink with them. Imagine what they really are looking like or what they have become, and never look or then will die the sparking of your imagination.

11 02 2012
Quieter Elephant

You could try grinding them up and selling them on eBay as alternative medicine; or witchcraft supplies; or preferably just “misplace” them…
People misplace things all the time. Around here the council removes “misplaced” items every Monday morning from the curbside.

What is it with mothers and keeping things from the early life of their children? Is it a hang-over from the days of high mortality rates, do you think? We have a shelf full of “first shoes”, and the like, so you’re not alone.

11 02 2012
sheriji

Don’t know why I kept them, really. It creeped me out from the start, but I felt I would be inadequate somehow if it didn’t matter to me.

What’s that line from the poem Redamancy Lit just posted (one, two, three), about wondering if it looked like you were doing “it” (motherhood) right? Finally let that one go. I think.

11 02 2012
misfits' miscellany

Dentists, I avoid people with small drills. I did see a photo of dentist called Michael Hock, captioned as: Mike Hock is in your mouth.

11 02 2012
Quieter Elephant

You, my friend, would love this page: http://www.frogstar.com/content/fake-names-usetxt

11 02 2012
misfits' miscellany

Heard a real one recently: Matthew Black. There’s also a reporter in SA called Mario Wanza.

Did write the beginning of a novel once with characters called Armirtage Shanks, Vallery Crow and the nemesis, Long Veh.

11 02 2012
Quieter Elephant

Ah, good ol’ Armitage Shanks! Don’t get to piss on him over here in Canada.
My granddad used to delight in telling me of one Richard Suppards whilst my dad used to tell me of little known books, like “Rusty bedsprings” by I.P. Knightly; “Falling off a cliff” by Eileen Dover, and so on…

11 02 2012
misfits' miscellany

Parents, more fucked-up than you think.

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