The Loss of Wisdom

Well, folks.  Adolescence has finally caught up with me.  Today, at the age of Almost Thirty, I had my very first wisdom tooth carved out of my face.


I hadn’t been expecting this.  I knew I had a gnarly tooth way back there, yeah, but I figured some elementary school filling fell out when I didn’t have insurance and the hole just got…bigger.  And grosser.  And whatever, just yank it out.

I didn’t know that the gnarly tooth was actually a wisdom tooth, and that the root was crooked and pointing at the back of my head.  It still had to come out, of course, which was fine with me, but five Novocaine shots and one tool that looked disturbingly like a sawed-off screwdriver later, I was one tooth lighter and far more stroke-faced than ever before.

Maybe you can help me with this.  I know I’m not supposed to and I won’t make sucking motions (shut up) because of dry sockets, but how else am I supposed to get all this nasty spit out of the front of my mouth?  When you think about it, collecting your own spit and swallowing it is kind of sucky (ha!).  What am I supposed to do with all of this drool?

PS – No.  I did not keep the tooth.  That’s gross.  The dental assistant seemed relieved that I had no interest in taking it home.

“I always feel a little weird about people who want to keep that stuff,” she said as she deposited my bloody tooth stub into a hazardous medical waste container.

“Yesh,” I responded.  “Like thaa haff a shkin coh ah hum, oo.”*

“Um,” she said.  “Right.”

*Skin coat at home!  Skin coat at home!  Buffalo Bill!  Get it?!

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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