Awkward Moments with Artificial Teeth

chatter teeth

1. When you refer to your implants and people look questioningly at your chest.

2. Not being able to feel if you have spinach, seeds, bread – anything – stuck on, in-between or around your teeth.

3. Getting massive quantities of food stuck underneath the bridgework.

4. Needing to use a WaterPik to feel like your mouth is actually clean.

5. Needing to bring two kinds of floss, toothpicks and a variety of brushes when travelling without the WaterPik.

6. Having to keep a stash of toothpicks in your desk at work, in the console of the car, and in your purse for those on-the-go moments.

7. The glare in photos.

8. Forgetting you have teeth (or just how far they extend) and smacking them with your glass while drinking.

9. Getting comments like “Wow, your teeth are perfect! How’d you get so lucky?”

10. Breaking a few teeth off your bridge while biting into a chocolate lollipop.

Don’t get me wrong. I am thankful on the daily for my dental implants and bridgework. Even with the hassle of keeping them clean, and the occasional incident (I’m not kidding about breaking off teeth with lollipops, as well as apples and chocolate), I love having a full set of teeth to smile with and to show off when I talk. My self-confidence is ten times greater than it was before my dental work was complete. I will happily WaterPik my evenings away if that’s what it takes. But sometimes you’ve just got to laugh at the silly things that happen when you’ve got a mouth full of man-made materials.


Even cartoon wallabies get food stuck in their teeth!

The Umbrella Story

What super power would you have? Why, invisibility, of course! Sure it would be nice to fly, or shoot lasers out of my eyes, but to be invisible . . . now that would be really cool.

umbrella boy

One spring afternoon in Music class, we were learning a song about the rain. On the handout there was a drawing of a boy walking through the rain with an umbrella. As I often did, I doodled on the drawing, beginning with shading his rain boots. Absent-mindedly, I continued embellishing the drawing until I came up with an amazing idea. Imagine an umbrella with curtain-like sides, so you could be completely hidden from view while using it! I could picture myself taking a walk through the park, strolling along in my own private room while passersby were completely uninterested in looking at me.

That afternoon I leapt off the school bus and ran to the house, eager to build the prototype. In the mudroom, I located the big Mary Poppins-style umbrella, grabbed a roll of duct tape and the rag box – which had some old bed sheets in it. I brought all the supplies out into the yard and painstakingly taped the mis-matched, paint-spattered sheets around the umbrella. I taped each sheet together to ensure that there would be no gaps through which I could be seen. My friend Chrissy came over to see what I was up to, determined I was nuts, and went home to watch Saved By the Bell.

I wasn’t the only one with this idea.

About an hour later, my umbrella creation was ready for a test run. I climbed under the sheets and hoisted the heavy contraption up off the ground. I’d failed to consider how I was going to navigate under this thing. After a few cautious steps around the yard, it was determined that an adjustment was needed. A section of sheet was removed and replaced with an opened-up black trash bag. The bag was transparent enough for me to see through, but not so transparent that anyone would be able to see me inside it. Brilliant! By then, it was time for dinner, so I closed the umbrella-contraption and tossed it into the mudroom, feeling accomplished.

A few weeks later, Joanna was visiting for the weekend. As usual, we spent much of the time lying around complaining about how incredibly bored we were. Then I remembered the umbrella. We decided to take it out for a walk around the park. It was big enough for the two of us to walk side-by-side in it, but it was awkward trying to coordinate our pace and not tread on the sheets which billowed around us. We made it across the parking lot to a bench near the tennis courts, where we sat down, still inside the umbrella.

Two teenage boys had just finished up a tennis game. They had probably seen us approaching the bench, like an enormous drunken jellyfish. They exited the tennis court and began walking towards us, their curiosity piqued. Joanna elbowed me in the ribs. “They’re coming over here!” she gasped, “let’s get out of here!”  I grabbed her arm, “No! Sit here – let’s see what happens!” For some reason, I didn’t expect them to actually come over to us. But they did. One of them tapped the top of the umbrella with his tennis racket. “Hello? What is this?” he laughed. We sat, paralyzed with a mix of excitement and fear. The other boy pulled back one of the sheets and peeked in. “There’s a couple of chicks in there!” he exclaimed. The other pushed him aside to have a look. “Naw, they’re just kids.”

As soon as they turned and began walking away, we leaped up from the bench and began running back to the house as hard as we could. If walking in a coordinated fashion had been difficult, running was proving to be impossible. The heavy umbrella wobbled uncontrollably in our hands. Joanna tripped on one of the sheets, ripping it from the umbrella as she fell. I kept running, still holding onto the umbrella as the remaining sheets flowed out behind me like a horse’s tail. Joanna kicked her legs free of the sheet that had tripped her and desperately continued running. Breathless, we reached the safety of the yard, where we collapsed into a screaming, laughing heap of sheets and mangled umbrella.

So much for that invisibility cloak.

Laughter… Better than Medicine

It is a crisp October night in 1984. I’m sitting at the kitchen table watching my mother struggle to cut shapes into a pumpkin, her brow furrowed in concentration. The mouth of this Jack-O’Lantern is lined with zig-zagging teeth and as Mommy slides the knife upward, it cuts through the pumpkin flesh and up into the nose-triangle. “Dammit”, she murmurs under her breath. She pulls the knife out and resumes cutting from another point. Moments later, on another upward cut, the knife slips and a chunk of pumpkin clatters to the table. Mommy lets out an exasperated sigh and declares, “Well, now the pumpkin has a cleft lip, just like you!”


Continue reading