Teeth.
‘You, young lady, are a grinder.’
These were the words uttered by my dearly beloved, rather conservative dentist, Doctor Kaminski who was in the habit of asking me what I thought of liberal people and their stance on life. He usually did this while standing over me holding a syringe of pain-killer that he was about to insert in to my gums to numb the consequences of a root canal. As he hung over my open mouth getting ready to administer the anesthetic I would always swear I thought ‘they’ were a bunch of idiots. On one such dental visit, as he idly scanned my oral cavity, he informed me that I gnash my teeth in my sleep.
Obviously I was doing this quite vigorously because he seemed to think it was only a matter of time before I wore down the enamel on my molars which according to him would be disastrous to my dental health. The usual cause of this affliction is stress and if one can get rid of the stress then the grinding goes away – but that would probably involve extensive psychotherapy and so Doc Kaminski gave me a much cheaper and more immediate solution. I was to wear a mouth guard to bed.
A mouth guard is a contraption made of soft, transparent plastic. It is shaped to fit snugly around the teeth on either the upper or lower jaw acting as a protective sleeve. These must be slipped in to position before bedtime on a nightly basis. While it will certainly not stop the grinding it will protect the teeth from its consequences. I signed up for a fitting immediately.
Up on hearing about this my mother consulted her own dentist in Bangalore. Doctor Kincha, my mother’s most favorite doctor, scoffed at the mouth guard saying, ‘The cure in this case must be mental, not dental.’ My mother, a counselor by trade, repeated this little rhyme to me with the greatest conviction. While I am aware that he is probably right I needed a quick fix.
I received mine a week later. It came in a small mauve container – a color I chose – that would house it during the day. I was very excited about my mouth guard and could not wait for night fall. After my nightly ablutions I grabbed my little mauve container and with much fan fare inserted the guard in to my gob which is how I found out that the mouth guard is also an uglification device.
When held in the palm of my hand it did not appear to be large (it is shaped like a set of teeth after all) but once I put it in my mouth it seemed to expand. As a child I had braces put in to correct a distressingly hideous over-bite but I think they may have been removed too soon and the remnants of the over-bite still exist. I have spent my life trying to smile, laugh and be photographed in a manner that brings as little attention to my teeth as possible so I was suitably horrified to discover that my mouth guard magnified this facial flaw.
I peered at myself for a few minutes, I adjusted the mirrors so I could examine both profiles, and I came to the conclusion that the mouth guard looked like something I could quite easily add to Halloween costume for maximum effect. The thought that I would have to wear this thing to my marital bed on a nightly basis bothered me. Eventually I was able to curl my upper lip over the protruding guard, and thinking no one would notice I exited the bathroom.
‘Oh my God!’ These were the words uttered by my husband.
‘Is it that bad?’ I asked, and by doing so unfurled my lip thereby displaying the mouth guard in all its glory. Why I needed confirmation I do not know.
‘OH MY GOD!!’ He looked positively afraid now.
Eventually he went from fear to making fun of them to finally accepting their existence.
Then one day I came home to find him looking rather distressed. It seems he had been to visit Doctor Kaminski’s colleague, Doctor Kafko, who had diagnosed him as a grinder and prescribed a mouth guard effective immediately. I was thrilled. A week later his arrived in a blue container. I went through the motions of insulting and humiliating him the way he had done to me quite recently, settling in to acceptance when I got bored.
Today the hideous mouth guard has become a part of life. We call them our ‘Teeth’.
‘Babe can you get the teeth please.’ And whoever is last to bed brings out both containers.
‘I can’t fucking believe it! You got your teeth and left mine there.’ The hurt reproach of whoever jumped in to bed and forgot to remind the other to get the Teeth.
Once settled with teeth at the ready we read for a bit, turn off our bed-side lamps, and turning away from one another discreetly slip the Teeth in to position. We then bid one another a lispy good-night.
The Teeth have become a signal that love is in the air. Or not.
‘So I suppose I’m not getting lucky tonight.’ My husband will note if I grab my mouth guard with conviction.
I used to fear old age – losing my teeth, my hair, my breasts. But I am less afraid now because I have realized that we humans can get used to literally anything.
i totally lol’d…i guess you and thaks will be able to move in to the dentures stage with much ease now!
this is so funny!!!!
i used to go to the same dentist kafko and kaminsky…and i had to get a night guard (in a blue case)!