I broke my front tooth last Sunday. Snapped right off, leaving a small stump and a suddenly big space in my mouth. I have this nasty habit of gritting my teeth. And I inherited my mom's weak enamel. Bad combination.
When my tooth broke, I did what any mature 30-year old woman would do. I locked myself in the bathroom and called my mom. And grinning at myself in the mirror, I looked hideous. So I also burst into tears. I didn't want The Hubby to see me looking like a toothless hag. My mom finally convinced me to talk to The Hubby so we could look for a dentist.
So there I stood, staring at the poor, sleep-deprived Hubby, willing him into consciousness. He finally jolted awake. "I broke my tooth," I mumbled from behind the village phone book.
"What?" he sleepily and grumpily mumbled back.
"Broke my tooth."
"What? What? Let me see."
Let him see? No way! I didn't want to disillusion him this early in our marriage. So I mumbled some more behind the phone book while keeping away from the bed.
"Fine," he said and turned on his side to go back to sleep.
The outrage I felt! How could he not see that what I wanted was his assurance that he would still love me even if I looked like the wicked witch of the east? Couldn't he read my mind? So I slammed my way out of the room, stomped down, and sobbed quietly as I tried to look for a dentist.
A few minutes later, The Hubby came down. "Are you ready to talk properly?" he asked.
Well, if talking properly meant facing him without the cover of the phonebook which was now open before me, then I wasn't ready. So I just mumbled some more, with my back turned to him. I felt ugly, unlovable, stupid and thoroughly misunderstood and unwanted.
But I'm blessed with a husband who eventually gets it. Much later, he finally apologized for being insensitive, and we made up. We didn't really kiss, because it just felt too weird kissing without a tooth.
I was only able to go to the dentist on Monday. So till then I had this lisp, especially with the letters "B" and "V". Oh, and to add to my semi-misery, The Hubby's siblings came over for dinner Sunday night. I must have looked so strange, talking behind my hands all evening (much earlier in the day, though, I was telling The Hubby that I wished his family would come over more often--I just didn't expect my wish to be answered so soon!).
Then when I got to the dentist, she had to do a root canal (I cannot explain how much this terrifies me. I hate going to the dentist. The sound of the drill makes me break out in goosebumps. I'm such a wuss when it comes to pain). Then she said one of my dreaded fears--I needed a jacket on my tooth. I always dreamed of dying with a full set of natural teeth, and this ruined it all.
When I got the temporary jacket, it was too white. Now while I am not exactly happy with the not-so-white color of my teeth, I still would have wanted the fake one not to stick out like, well, a sore tooth. So it was another two days of talking without letting my lip go above my teeth-line, and trying not to smile in public. "Oh," said The Hubby, "you could glow in the dark!" Grr. Sometimes I wonder about his sense of humor.
Fortunately, the dentist made another temporary jacket that was more in the mother-of-pearl shade. So I can now talk normally and smile and laugh aloud.
And yes, The Hubby and I finally can kiss and make up properly.