how i got my gold tooth

Forewarning: Lots of “F” bombs in this post. So if you are faint at heart, or are my mother, maybe you should skip this one.

When I walked into La Provence, a quaint French restaurant in the San Diego Gaslamp Quarter nearly 12 years ago for a date night with my now-husband/then-boyfriend, I had no idea my life was about to change forever.

The change didn’t actually take place that night, but somewhere between the brie and the quiche, a fateful bite began a chain of events that led to a major ding in my self-esteem and a build up of my alter rapper ego, Mama Nelly.

In the midst of our romantic dinner, I found myself famished and on the verge of crankiness so I gregariously dove into the basket of artisan bread. I smothered a slice with some sort of succulent spread and went for it.

*CRACK*

“Ouch!” I yelled as soon as my teeth clenched down on said bread.

Steve looked at me quizzically. “Are you okay?”

“Ouch!” I repeated. “I think my tooth just fucking broke!” I immediately pulled out the bread, with a piece of my tooth along with it.

Holy Merde!

The pain was sharp, and piercing through whatever layer of wine-induced numbness I had goin’ on at the time. One of my back right bottom molars had completely cracked in half, and the wayward, rogue half was sitting mockingly in the palm of my hand.

How do you say buzz kill in French?

Our romantic date night came to a premature close and first thing the next morning I found myself in the dentist’s chair receiving a porcelain crown. And damn did it hurt!

Cut to a few years later, me, in pink satin at a best friend’s wedding. After some hard core wedding party duties (i.e. drinking and dancing), I collapsed in my chivari chair in the middle of the Torrey Pines Lodge ballroom and bellied up to a dish of pastel Jordan Almonds placed ever so precisely at the table. One over-zealous bite is all it took.

*CRACK*

“Ouch!” I shrieked as soon as my teeth clamped down on the hardest fucking nut known to man that has no business being at a wedding in the first place (no offense Lisa).

“Ouch!” I repeated. “I think my tooth just fucking broke again!” I immediately pulled out said nut, along with half of my expensive-ass porcelain crown.

Holy Shite!

My stint as bridesmaid promptly came to a close and first thing the following morning I was in the dentist’s chair, again, hoping the pain would soon be a distant memory.

The following events of that morning are all still a blur, but here is what I remember.

The dentist sat down next to me to have a canine to canine about the condition of my tooth and all the possible remedies. He began throwing the world “gold” around like it was a jewelry party and I began to freak out. Like I said, my memory is hazy, but from what I recall, when he said that my tooth was too delicate and damaged for porcelain I worked out a deal with him that he could put a gold crown on the top of the tooth, just so long as the sides were porcelain—and white! He agreed with that plan, or so I thought, and proceeded to hop me up with pain meds, poke, prod and wrench the shit out of my mouth for nearly two straight hours. Eventually the pain meds began wearing off and that shit hurt!

In a delirious state of pain and weariness I made my way to my car and began driving home. My mouth still in a Bill Cosby state of half movement/half drooling, I decided to look in the rear view mirror. And this is what I saw.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT! I have a GOLD TOOTH!

I did a quadruple take to make sure I wasn’t just seeing things because of my delirium. On every subsequent glance, there it was, shiny, bright, blinding and GOLD.

To say I freaked the fuck out would be an understatement. I went totally ballistic. Batshit. Crazy. Cursing like a trucker and wailing like a banshee. A gold fucking tooth? Are you freaking kidding me?

A few moments later I arrived home, though I’m not sure how I didn’t crash into a fire hydrant or purposefully run my car into oncoming traffic, nor do I envy Steve for having to deal with the absolute disastrous wreck that came barreling into the house. I’m pretty sure I did a dramatic wall slide (thanks Luvvie for that term), curled up into a fetal position and wept myself into a state of frenetic angst. Seriously? A gold fucking tooth???

Once my body stopped heaving and I could actually formulate a sentence, I picked up the phone and called the dentist. Upon hearing his voice I lost my shit again. “I thought, I thought, I thought you said gold AND porcelain. I really don’t want a GOLD TOOTH!”

His response was calm yet tense.  Apparently when he was in the middle of the procedure he determined that my tooth was too fragile after two breaks and decided, on his own, that any amount of porcelain would crack again eventually, and henceforth decided to go with an ALL GOLD tooth to spare me anymore “trauma.”

Inner Monologue: I’ll give you trauma you masochistic, misogynistic asshole!

 

I’m not sure why I didn’t immediately hang up and call a lawyer–probably because I went right back into the fetal position, where I stayed for an unknown length of time.

There, in my ball of vanity and shame, I thought to myself, Yes, I love rap music, yes, I have every word to Ice Cube’s Predator CD memorized, but do I really need a gold tooth to prove I’m down with OPP? Isn’t the size of my ass enough to prove that?

Eventually I calmed down, like a year or so later, and I realized that it’s a barely visible back tooth that most people won’t even notice when talking to me (and now, moments before I hit “publish” on this post, I’m really wondering why the hell I’ve decided to share this story, ‘cause all you’ll be able to look at when you’re talking to me IRL is my bright shiny gem of a tooth).

And, though leprechauns and pirates want their way with me, and I cringe every time a disco ball makes pretty designs in my mouth, I’ve managed to survive the past seven years with little to no repercussions from this catastrophic event. Mainly my ego took a gilded blow and my inner drama queen was given the role of a lifetime.

Bling to the mother fucking bling!

Now, I embrace my alter rapper ego. Fuck it. I even have a clock necklace to wear for special occasions. And, on the bright side, if the recession ever gets too bad, I can always just hock my tooth.

[pinit]

36 Comments

  1. 1

    You so hot.

    No really.

    That’s HOT.

  2. 2
    Elle says:

    For sheezy, that shit’s off the hook. ;)

  3. 3
    Luvvie says:

    *falls the HELL out* OMG! LMAOOOOOOOOO!!! Wait. No. I’m not supposed to do that. This was traumatic for you. Let me start over.

    Oh Mary. I’m so sorry to hear that you’re now a part of the St. Lunatics. I’da thought no such thing. Is Nelly really as fine in person? Do tell.

    Oh. I fail at sympathy sometimes. O__O But you’re still adorabo! I bet no one asks you to spit rhyme when they see you. :-)

  4. 4
    Luvvie says:

    And I won’t lie. Ever since I read this post, the song “It’s getting hot in herre!” has been stuck in my head. Dambit!

  5. 5
    Tracey says:

    You kiss those babies with that mouth? Looking forward to seeing you soon and checking out the gold tooth! :-)

  6. 6

    Will you start wearing a bandage (or whatever it was) under your eye? Don’t think you can be Mama Nelly (gold tooth or not) without also sporting the under-eye bandage.

  7. 7
    Ooph says:

    Lucky for you grills are in. Go on with your bad gold ass.

  8. 8
    Benjie says:

    So hilarious Mar! Love this story!
    I love love the new format. It looks fabbbulous. XO!

  9. 9
    theresa says:

    Oh My God where do I begin. I’m not sure I can be friends with some who is that Gangsta. Gold tooth? You’re hard core!

  10. 10
    The Sweetest says:

    Love it. And I totally understand. I have had my share of dental work and had some “temporary teeth” once that looked like pieces of cheese in my mouth. I sometimes have dreams that my teeth are falling out.

    • Mary says:

      Ugh, I have the teeth falling out dream every once in awhile too, but I heard that teeth falling out represents something bad happening so I try not to remember those dreams.

  11. 11
    Lisa Voss says:

    In true bridesmaid fashion, you didn’t worry the bride about it. I don’t think I even knew that happened at my wedding. After the rain, I don’t think I could have handled your tooth falling out. Have you had a jordan almond since?

    • Mary says:

      Will never eat another Jordan again. PTS is real! : ) And of course I could never have told the bride about my crisis. It just dawned on me when I was writing it that I never ended up telling you later. : )

  12. 12
    mrs. g. says:

    I understand your angst but, trust me, it adds character. Just stay away from Glen Beck–I’ve heard he’s got a thang for gold.

    • Mary says:

      Okay non only am I cracking up at the Glen Beck comment, but I am also jumping for joy to have a comment from my hero, Mrs. G. I’m so happy to hear from you and thrilled that the Manor is back. : )

  13. 13
    MomZombie says:

    Nearly every freakin’ molar in my head is a crown. None are gold, alas.
    Still, you have some nice choppers.

  14. 14
    Laura Lee says:

    Girl, you done gone and bedazzled your toof!
    It’s purdy.

  15. 15
    Charle says:

    love the story. and why you dont do a vlog in youtube about this story ?

  16. 16
    lesa says:

    exactly the same thing happened to me but i got 4 2 gold and 2 silver and 1 in each side when i first opened my mouth i was shocked mouth full of metal

  17. 17
    Divyansh says:

    You are a beautiful lady! Your? arms look rellay nice. I would love to see you flex them! Nicely toned arms are very sexy. I also love your muscular legs! Also very sexy! Congratulations on your marathon! Your dedication to working out and losing weight is an inspiration. I admire that dedication. You truly look amazing!

  18. 18
    Steen says:

    I’ve read your story a number of times: And it’s really well written :-) Reason for reading it is that recently, I went through the same procedure, as you did.

    Though it has been some years since you posted your story, I hope that you will read this comment.

    That made me curious. And I’ve read numerous accounts on what it is like getting a gold tooth.

    I wonder: Do American dentists knock their patients unconscious during treatment? I’ve read other accounts (from America (the US)) where the patient claims not to have been aware of what was going on.

    I got my gold tooth, and during the entire process, which was to visits at the dentist and all together 2½ hours in the chair, I was fully aware that a gold crown was being “installed” in my mouth.

    BR,
    Steen

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