Of Mouthguards and Men

There are numerous indignities associated with getting older – sagging breasts, wrinkles, age spots, and getting long in the teeth (literally! Like a horse!). To add to this list, a few years ago my dentist informed me that I am grinding my teeth to the nubbins, likening my molars to ice rinks that are being supported precariously by splintering icebergs. So he fitted me for a $400 mouthguard, a semi-opaque, pale yellow thumb-sized chunk of plastic that sits over my 4 upper front teeth, immortalizing my bucked toothiness forever. I didn’t wear it at all for the first couple of years as my vanity flatly refused to let me wear it to bed. But as my unprotected molars creaked under the strain, migraines and an inability to enjoy ice-cream or hot chocolate wore away at my vanity, until I was forced to put my money where my mouth is. My teeth are better but alas, middle of the night romps are now preceded by a distinctive click (to disengage the mouthguard from the teeth) and a wipe (to remove the strands of saliva strewn across my cheek). I’m glad he’s a sure thing or I’d be getting fitted for dentures soon!

Love Lucie

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