On Tuesday I had two teeth forcefully removed from my face. It was horrible.
I paid a man money to stab me with needles and then strong-arm permanent fixtures from my mouth. It “needed” to be done. They were wisdom teeth and this was “the easy way,” because they weren’t impacted.
If you’re having teeth pulled and they tell you that you’ll feel “pressure,” know they’re lying. You might not feel pain but “pressure” is an outright lie.
A hug is pressure.
A poke is pressure.
What you will feel is someone elbow-deep in your face with various tools and the strength of a grown man behind them. There’s no obscurity behind what’s happening. And I sure as hell wouldn’t describe it as “pressure.”
Now, as modern medicine deems safe and appropriate, all my teeth now have top-bottom matches and in 2023 I won’t have teeth in the back that touch the bottom when my mouth is wide open.
But now that I’m not suffering the immediate aftermath and discomfort I feel like there aren’t enough teeth in my mouth.
I miss my too-long way-back smarty pants molars. I kind of wanted them to take home with me… Alas, I’m grown and that would have been weird.