I cried in the grocery store this afternoon. Sobbed walking up and down the aisles. I’m pretty sure it’s not PMS. I’m pretty sure it’s the tooth, and the denture I’m going to have to wear on my FRONT TOOTH for a whole year while the bone grows enough (we hope) to hold an implant — the bone that’s disintegrated into next-to-nothing because it’s been infected for SEVEN YEARS.

So, I cried in the grocery store. And then an acnefied survey guy approached me in the pasta aisle: “Do you have a few minutes?” he asked me, “I just wanted to show you this new — .” “Not a good time,” I interrupted, looking up finally and showing him my bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He smiled and let me go, then chased after me with a coupon for free pop, which I accepted and then placed on a shelf because my fridge is packed with kale and spinach and broccoli because I need to grow bone — greens have good calcium. Also, I’m very anti-pop. Or soda, or whatever. Anything carbonated strikes me as just wrong….

I’m just sad. It was all funny at first — this whole toothless thing. But, I’ve now met with the ceramicist who’s creating the denture, and the periodontist who’s going to pull the tooth out, raise my gums (ack), and eventually screw in the implant. And, after all that, I may not even get an implant. It might be a bridge.

It’s just hard. I’ve struggled enough with my weight — post pregnancy — and now I have to deal with a denture that might not look so great for a year, that I have to take out and clean after meals ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

It’s totally superficial, I know. I’m lucky it’s not my nose, my ear, my breast. It’s just a tooth. A *cough* top front tooth. But, it’s still a big ordeal. It’s procedure after procedure after painful procedure. And, as it said in the agreement I had to sign, losing a tooth can be psychologically trying, especially — as the periodontist assistant pointed out ad nauseum — a front tooth. For a year.

Here’s hoping it’ll be successful. Here’s hoping I don’t look like Hilary Duff at the end of this. (They have to rework all four of my front teeth to make me hot again.) Or, maybe that I DO look like Hilary Duff….

In the meantime, a little comic relief because HUFF. Check what Rascal wore to his playdate the other day — too. much.

Also, the Monkey can DRAW….

Rascal’s…getting there, too!

The balance! composition! colour scheme. Bril-lers.

Talk about brillers, SPECTACULAR, heart filling-up WONDERful — go see Alice in Wonderland in IMAX 3D….

DEPP!

That movie, and the triple upgrade at the Park Hyatt Hotel, sans children, and my Pure + Simple gifty from Josh made our seventh anniversary beyond memorable. Beyond!

There, see, I have so many things to smile about. Just not too wide. (For the next year.) So as not to expose. The tooth.

Here’s hoping my dentist can keep his promise and make the tooth (both temp and final) look awesome. Right? Right.

UPDATE: My dentist just called me — it’s 10pm. He called to reassure me that everything’s going to be okay (and that I won’t look like Hilary Duff). If I can’t get an implant or the denture looks like crap, he’ll put in a bridge or some other wonderful technological marvel. I’m in good hands. Still. This sucks.

Love….

xo Haley-O

P.S.: In case you haven’t seen it yet, I’m hosting a Pure + Simple giveaway over at Goodies. Open to GTA and beyond (Canada/US). CHECK IT.

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