OK, so I hadn't been to the dentist in about two years. Is that such a crime?! But for two years I faithfully brushed and flossed...well, ok, the flossing was more of a weekend activity...but I was good, and all for naught! Cavities. Plural. I won't say how many, because I don't want people who don't know me to read this and think I'm some snaggle-toothed hillbilly. As anyone who has ever felt that fateful little tug of the hook knows, there's nothing more shameful and devastating than being told you're going to need a filling. There's a sneer in that word. Try to say it without sneering. Go ahead. "Filling."

Well, as if that wasn't enough. TMJ. Oh, good. Even more upsetting than being told your natural defenses are failing you, is being told that your body is doing something, without your permission, while you're asleep, that is detrimental to your health. What else is going on when I'm in dreamland? Eating fried snacks? Chasing the dragon? At least that explains the piercing headaches and erosion of tooth enamel. I'm grinding my teeth at night. I hear horror stories of people whose TMJ got so bad that their jaw would lock shut. I start keeping my tongue between my teeth, just to make sure.

All in all, it is a depressing and costly experience. Not to mention painful and scrape-ey. But I do get a lovely souvenir night guard to put between my clenchorific jaws. And all the outdated Vanity Fair I want.