I was 21 years old when the laser treatments began.
It wasn’t entirely surprising. I’d had trouble with my teeth for well over a decade. Thanks to genetics and, I suppose, rotten luck, two of my adult teeth never came in after I lost my baby teeth in the first couple years of elementary school. This isn’t a rare condition—I know multiple adults who still haven’t filled the gaps in the backs of their mouths—but in my case, the gaps weren’t exactly hidden. In fact, they were on either side of my front teeth. “Prominent” doesn’t begin to cover it. It’s almost certain I was ridiculed for the way they looked, since children can be exceptionally cruel and my teeth hit Peak Awkward around the time I was 12 (when the art of meanness is perfected).
The pronounced gaps remained through countless cavity fillings and a lengthy stint with braces. After my orthodontist removed my braces in my sophomore year of high school, he whipped up a retainer adorned with two (genuinely convincing) false teeth. Granted, I had to remove my retainer during meals, but I’d take that over glaring gaps any day of the week.
There was a more permanent solution to my problem far off in the distance: dental implantations. But those cost a bundle of money that neither my parents nor I were willing to hand over just yet. My father promised me that by the time I got married or graduated from college—whichever came first—I would have a full set of teeth. I’ll semi-ruin the end of this story by telling you he was right. But it was a complicated kind of right.
I was a senior in college when my dentist presented a solution for my longstanding problem: Tooth In An Hour. Tooth In An Hour works thusly: a dentist sits you in a chair, pumps you full of local anesthetic, drills a hole (or, in my case, two) in your mouth, sticks a screw in said hole, and covers said hole with a temporary cap. The name’s not misleading—it really is a short and relatively painless procedure if you can stand a few needles coming in contact with your gums. I wasn’t squeamish about that at the time, and I’m even less so now, since it’s happened more than a few times since. But I’ll get to that later.
My dentist was, at that point, one of few who performed Tooth In An Hour, so other dentists from around the country sat and watched the surgery on TV screens in the waiting room. I’m not exactly sure the economics of this, but I got a substantial discount on my surgery since it was 1) borderline experimental and 2) filmed before a live viewing audience. And I’m really grateful for that. I was 21 and well past the point of being embarrassed by the retainer line over my teeth, but not having to wear it, and having what could be called a normal smile, sounded really great to me. (Plus, I was getting married in a few months’ time, and the wedding pictures would probably look a bit better with a full set of teeth. Also, chewing. Chewing would get easier.)
Within a couple weeks, the recovery period concluded and my dentist placed my permanent caps. Less than a month later, my gums began showing signs of infection. They were inflamed, and they itched constantly. I called the dentist’s office and was told that infection was highly unlikely. My mouth was just getting used to its new synthetic-filled state. When I went in for a checkup, I was unsurprised to learn my gums were, in fact, infected.
I didn’t have much spare time to get upset about the fact that my dentist ignored what was a fairly obvious mistake on his part. Regardless, I was fairly angry with both the dentist and the receptionist who’d laughed off what I was certain was an infection. And there was no real possibility of taking legal action against them. We didn’t have too strong a case beyond “They didn’t believe me and I’m mad at them,” and shelling out hundreds of dollars for a lawyer on principle would’ve been foolish. But I stewed. You better believe I stewed. There was a great deal of complaining to my fiancé behind closed doors—not so much to my parents, because I didn’t want to heap guilt on them in addition to dental bills. Why would I? They paid for my fake teeth, and they were footing most of the bill for my wedding. I can’t imagine it would’ve made me feel better to tell them about my frustration.
In the months that followed, I had weekly laser treatments—preceded by four injections of anesthetic with a frighteningly sharp needle—to heal my gums. Imagine how a dental-specific laser smells when in use. (It’s like burning.) Then imagine that smell coming from your mouth. (It tastes like metallic hot dogs.) Then imagine how that laser might sound. (It’s not at all what you want it to be. It doesn’t beep or boop or bleep or anything. It just whirs menacingly. And it does so inside our mouth.) Then imagine sitting in a chair every Monday afternoon for six weeks while the same dentist you’ve seen since you were 7 aims a laser in your mouth in effort to cure the symptoms you noticed and he disregarded.
It doesn’t feel the way you want to feel when you’re completing your final semester of undergrad, working part-time and trying to find a summer gig, and making last-minute plans for your wedding—which is scheduled for less than a month after graduation day. I was already stressed out, and jetting off from History of the English Language class to my dentist’s office each week rather than kicking back and playing Katamari Damacy in my apartment was disappointing, to say the least. And no matter how used to mouth-probing needles, they’re still needles. And they’re still scary.
Four days after my final laser treatment, the dentist office caught fire after hours. (You can’t make this stuff up.) After hearing the news from my mom, I thought about the concepts of irony, coincidence, karma, and schadenfreude. I thought about forgiveness, and I thought about the kindness of the dental hygienists and the plastic bottles of water I liked bringing out of the office and re-using for weeks on end. Then I thought about finding a new dentist as soon as I switched insurance providers. It didn’t seem worth it to keep endorsing this particular practice while feeling the way I did: disappointed, disenchanted, and oddly betrayed.
Three years and approximately three preventive care appointments later, all with the practice’s other resident dentist, I moved from Grandville, Michigan to Manhattan with my husband and our two cats. In time, I got a great job at a great business and insurance in the state of New York. Then, in 2013, I had two wisdom teeth extracted. It took under an hour. I opted for local anesthetic and, when he seemed concerned with this choice, I insisted to the oral surgeon that my mouth had seen it all. Post-surgery, after telling me how well I did, he showed me the teeth, and we agreed the roots looked like claws. I didn’t tell him quickly enough that I wanted to keep them (who wouldn’t?), and they were thrown in the medical waste bin, lost but not forgotten.
The nine blocks and two avenues back to our apartment were normal, save for the gauze in my mouth and slowly fading anesthetic. We stopped at Wendy’s for a soft lunch of Frostys and fries. After ascending the stairs to our fourth-floor walkup, I parked myself on the couch and watched New Girl in blocks and whined about not being able to drink beer for an entire six days. (Fun fact: if you whine about this loudly enough in front of a bartender, they’ll set you up with free Coca-Colas for the rest of the night. At least, that’s been my experience.) Relative to how complicated it was, this was the easiest time I’d ever had with a dental procedure. I was happier, content with the competent dentists, doctors, and oral surgeons I had sought out in Manhattan. Finally, I had health care providers I could recommend. And even when you’re a relatively healthy twenty-something, that’s a crucial thing to have.
Subpar dentistry at a discounted rate isn’t, on average, worth the struggle. In retrospect, I should thought through the potential consequences of trusting that particular dentist with such a procedure, and I should have told my parents we should wait on it. But then, I wouldn’t have the implants I have. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to experience the raw power of a laser in your mouth. I wouldn’t have spent so much time with my mom as she carted me from campus to the dentist and back again on Monday afternoons. (Thanks, Mom.) And I wouldn’t be able to tell you that I know, from experience, you should only agree to a medical procedure with a name involving the phrase “In An Hour” if you’re ready for probable disaster and one hell of a narrative.
J. Longo is a designer, illustrator and storyboard artist who lives above an obnoxiously loud bar in Brooklyn with his wife and deaf cat. You can see more of his work by following J. on Instagram.
Tags: artwork, christy admiraal, dental health, jason longo, tooth in an hour, weird true tales
Oh my god between this and the new Samantha Irby piece I am going to spend the rest of the day as a quivering mess of dental anxieties.Teeth! Augh! Augh augh augh.
(This is very funny and very excellent, though, and I am glad I read it despite my Teeth Fears.)
DENTAL PLAN
Lisa needs braces!
fun fact: most don’t fully (or even partially) cover implants. no matter how many sad-eyes you make at them.
but tax write-offs? that’s a thing.
With the best parents come the worst teeth; I sympathize with you!!
This was a fabulous tale. And the illustrations! SO GOOD. Thank you for sharing. I’m in my thirties and missing 3 permanent teeth, so I’m in the beginning of a long process of dental implants, extractions, and braces. I hate that you had to go through this, but I’m glad to have company. And I’m starting to feel better about dropping so much cash on my teeth- clearly I’m not alone.
Same! I lost one of my three remaining baby teeth a few years ago and went through the implant process. It was no picnic but certainly not as terrible this story (no lasers or burning). Two baby teeth are still hanging in. I brush them nicely and whisper them words of encouragement to stick it out just a few more years. Good luck to you!
C’mon little baby teeth! You can do it!! My dentist warned me in my early twenties that I was going to need work on those teeth eventually. Fortunately they held out for another decade or so, until I cracked one on a hard candy and she was like “yeah, we can’t put this off any longer”.
Hypodontiacs in the house! I’m 26 and just had 2 of my 4 remaining baby teeth (upper molars) extracted on Tuesday in preparation for implants (the other 2 baby teeth are still going strong, for now). Here I was, caring for my sutures and feeling sorry for myself, blissfully ignorant of the horrors of DENTAL LASERS.
Luckily, I remembered to ask for my teeth back. Sadly, when I put them under my pillow, the tooth fairy did not pay my dental bill.
Sutures, though. UGH. Still a ball of suck. I had a baby tooth extracted and the post placed on the same day last October; I’m going back in late April to get the abutment placed. Fortunately this first one is back in my mouth a little bit, so I don’t care about having a gap. I’m a little concerned about what happens when I get my baby canines pulled though.
I am missing one of my permanent teeth, though the baby tooth is still hanging in there, and I’ve NEVER met anyone else before who was missing permanent teeth! It’s comforting to know there are more out there, but holy shit the opposite of comforting to read stuff like this and think I might need an implant or something later, especially since I have *issues* about going to the dentist.
(Fun fact: besides the missing permanent tooth, my top two wisdom teeth were classified as “microdonts”–basically, mini-teeth. They were so cute! My dentist had me get them taken out anyways.)
If it helps, my implant procedures have been very smooth so far, and not a laser-treated horrorshow. It helps that my mom also has terrible teeth, so she’s done all of this before multiple times. When I called my parents to tell them I needed implants, Mom was like “They’re the best, definitely, absolutely get them done, they’re so much better than bridges, buy lots of ice cream, I’ll bring you soft foods.”
I feel you on the dentist issues. I do. If you can, I’d recommend finding a practice that does sedation dentistry- not that you’ll necessarily need it, but I think having that means the staff is better at addressing your fears and keeping you calm, because they deal with fearful patients on a regular basis. My dentist also lets you wear headphones in the chair during procedures, which I find to be a good distraction.
Thanks, that does help. Now, I usually do okay at the dentist (but headphones! what a great idea!) once I’m actually there at my appointment, but I have a lot of dentist-anxiety from when I was a kid. One of my molars grew in funny so they filled it, and then I have had it refilled probably at least four or five times since, just because it wore down or came out while I was eating Laffy Taffy, or stuff like that. That plus normal sealants and one or two other fillings meant there were a couple years in elementary/middle school when I had to go back to get work done after every appointment I had.
Yeah, when I eventually get my own dentist (instead of timing visits home to go to my childhood dentist) I’ll probably look for sedation, at least on larger procedures. I got knocked out when I got my wisdom teeth out and it was perfect.
Headphones, absolutely. Our dental clinic also offers dark glasses on request, which is great under those bright lights. I didn’t even know they had them, until my husband offhandedly mentioned that the hygienist always asked if he needed dark glasses, what do you mean no one ever asked you that? I promptly switched to the same hygienist, who is the Goddess of Dental Clinics, and yes, she always asks if I need them. We love and adore her.
I got my lovely tooth deficit from my dad, who hates dentists and has just… lived without many of his teeth for most of his adult life. So that’s an option. Or you could just find a dentist who’ll knock you out. Plenty of them will do it nowadays!
I’ve got at least one baby tooth still chilling out with no permanent underneath! And if the teeth on the sides of my two front ones aren’t baby teeth, they’re freakishly tiny. (My mom and I have both forgotten if they ever fell out but still manage to disagree on the point.) My first dentist (also someone I have seen since I was young–like 11 or so!) said it was supposed to fall out two years ago. My last dentist said he’s seen people in their 40s with those suckers. Implants are in my future. I am saving up for that and adult braces.
Interesting side note?: I never really cared about my jacked-up teeth until my mom and sister told me in my last semester of undergrad (why is it always the last semester of undergrad?) that I would be going on job interviews soon and “it looks like you either don’t care enough about your appearance or you can’t afford to fix them.” Both of those things were/are true, but it’s a moment that has resulted in a complex. Le sigh.
oh my god, mom and sister! Not cool! D: Are you working as an actor or model? Because if not, I can virtually guarantee that nobody worth working for gives half a shit about how your teeth look. I mean, yeah, I’m looking forward to having somewhat prettier teeth, but I could have a happy and fulfilled professional and personal life the way I am now. (Which would also both hurt and cost a whole lot less.)
I am a LIBRARIAN. One of the least appearance-conscious professions ever, basically. Yeah, it was a pretty messed up thing to say, but the economy was awful then (2009) and I think it was coming from a place of being concerned about entering the entry-level interview game and “we just want you to have every possible advantage” thing. But I bring it up all the time and they feel bad about making me feel bad.
The illustrations are great! I too have had hellish implant experiences. I too was born without all my permanent teeth (I’m missing about 10 or so and never got wisdom teeth, for which I’m grateful). I’m fully not trying to one-up you on this, but just sharing. Oh, but I will one-up you on one thing (sorry!). Be grateful, though, because I happened to be restrained during my first implant surgery. That means that my arms were strapped down and I was given like a Twilight Sleep type of drug, so I was semi-conscious. (Btw, wasn’t that the Twilight Sleep X-files the best? With the swirly photos and the man on stilts and the sadistic dentist? Man, I miss that show.) Anyway, I still haven’t recovered, after twenty years. I still freak out (while trying not to) for any kind of local anesthetic shots and I generally traumatize the nice hygenists. So now I ask for nitrous, which you basically have to pay cash for, but everyone’s happier. Thanks for writing this. It is cathartic to be able to read about and then to confess horrible dental experiences. At least the implants exist, right? I mean, I think I’d never smile otherwise. I’d be one of those dour Victorian ladies in all the photographs from back then. Although, people might think me more of a badass. Hmmm. Anyway, thanks for writing this!
They strapped you down???? AHHHHHHH
When I was about four at the dentist I was being too wiggly and the hygienist got right up in my face and hissed “If you don’t stop moving I’m going to tie you to this chair.” And I started crying (duh) and my mom came in and raised HOLY HELL and yelled at the hygienist that if I was not behaving properly she needed to get my mom, NOT threaten to tie a four-year-old to a dental chair and pry her mouth open.
Yep, same thing happened to me. Except I was 17. And I was getting a tetanus shot after having stepped on an earring. But yes with the tie-down threat and the crying and the yelling mom.
oh I was actually strapped down, hands and feet for a dental procedure because my teeth were messed up as a kid. And i had terrible anxiety and they wouldn’t let my mom come in the room and i cried while i was being put under and they told me to stop overreacting or something. I’m still traumatized thinking about that. We switched dentists and my mom could sit with me and they were very nice but that was a terrible experience.
Goddamned nightmare, yes. I’m not sure, but I think most people on Twilight Sleep have a great time, but in my case, it was a bad trip. Much like many/most people who take acid have a great time, but periodically there will be a bad trip.
There’s another nightmare aspect to this in that one of my implants failed, well, to implant. This was discovered when pressure was put on it (it popped) and then I started gushing blood. My mom had dropped me off at my appointment and then went home and proceeded to get on the phone with a friend for two hours. We called and even emergency broke into her phone call, but she wouldn’t do the call waiting (she doesn’t believe in it – it’s rude to the person you’re speaking to). Long story short, I sat in the dentist’s waiting room for an hour, bleeding profusely, freaking everyone out, and finally a hygenist drove me home. The only good that has come out of this is that I will always answer call waiting and I will never drop my kids off for any kind of medical procedure – I’ll stick around. Oh, plus I’ll insist my children are never restrained for any dental procedure. I admire aravisthequeen’s mom greatly. It’s moms like that that I look to for guidance on how to parent (and not my own).
I skimmed quickly because I’m about to run into a meeting, but that drawing of the Prince rolling a tooth. o_O
The phrase “tooth in an hour” immediately filled me with dread.
In my mind I really wanted it to be one of those weird sponge things, where you pop a capsule in a tray of water and it expands into a tooth-shaped thing. But it was not.
Christy!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was amazing, hilarious, brilliantly written, and the illustrations were a perfect accompaniment.
You are a gifted writer, and I alternated between feeling your pain and laughing out loud. And the irony regarding the fire… WOW. Oh, and one more thing: your parents seem like really great people!
My mouth hurts.
Fun fact, redacted from piece: the metal in my gums itched REALLY BADLY for a while post-treatment, and every once in a while, I get phantom itches. It’s just a nice lil’ reminder of how great everything was!
Girl, just speaking as a law student, you probably did have a case against your dentist. Probably wouldn’t be worth hiring a lawyer, but you could definitely seek damages for pain and suffering as a result of medical malpractice. You could also argue that those weekly appointments in university meant you weren’t able to study as much which is why you’re not in ___ lucrative field now. Loss of future income, bam!
Haha also I’m sure there are real lawyers who read the toast who are going to laugh at this. Sorry guys, I’m just a hapless 2L.
Hapless 2Ls are the best at giving off-the-wall legal advice (srlsy). For one thing, you’re closer to the case law. For another thing, the fear of God hasn’t been put into you yet. Just don’t accidentally get caught up in practicing law without a license and you’re good to go!
But also, totally agree on med mal claim and also general negligence. And any med mal litigator is going to know the heck out of maximizing damages. Of course, then you’re also That Guy. But, whatevs.
In other news, awesome story and I am very impressed with your bravery re: needles about the mouth! I try to be a tough guy but I am really a total total wimp. . .
Thank you all for being wonderful! (PS: recent cat songs include Billy Joel’s “She’s Always a Woman” (“she’s always a Midna”) and the New Girl theme (“Who’s that cat? Who’s that cat? It’s Gar!” as in Garrus).
the new girl theme song is GREAT for cat-singing. i always sing along to it to my cat – “it’s giz!” (cat’s name is gizmo) or sometimes if he’s being bad “it’s haterat!” (i verbally abuse my cats frequently but i also feed them so it evens out).
GARRUS CAT <3
Sometimes I wish we’d gone all the way and given him the last name Vakarian, too.
This knocks my previous dental-horror story all hollow. (Considering that my story was “I had to have two cavities filled, one on each side of my mouth, and they had to give me like six shots of Novacain and my whole bottom half of my head was numb for a day”……this is not even in the same ballpark. This is the Major Leagues compared to my Triple A.)
High-five! I have had very similar experiences to you. My horrible, lying, former dentist is now in rehab, so there you go. He said that my gums were “too big” for braces and had to be “redacted” or some similar horrifying medical term, i.e. burned off. I was much younger than you were, but it still remains one of the most terrifying things that I’ve ever experienced.
In a separate incident, my missing permanent teeth were only missing temporarily: both my canines, which that same dumbass dentist said needed to come out to “make room” for the permanent teeth above, which then proceeded not to grow in for YEARS. When my little sister, who was about 4 at the time, asked me what happened to my teeth, I grumpily told her that I was a vampire and the government had had me defanged for the protection of the American people–but that they might grow back. I didn’t realize at the time that 4-year-olds have no concept of sarcasm, and I also didn’t realize that she went in abject fear of me for about a decade.
This … is awful. But I’m also smirking at the idea of a sibling believing you’re a supernatural creature for a long, long time.
Smirk away! We laugh about it now, but apparently she told people about it for years, “Help me, my sister’s a vampire, why won’t anyone believe me?” etc. etc. She’s turned out okay.
Way to make lemons into lemonade!
Thanks! And by the way, I just had to tell you I love your username. I’m from Tennessee and had to write a paper in school about the Bell Witch and have been a little obsessed ever since.
Woooooo, it warms my heart when people get my username. It’s like, hail, fellow Tennessean, well met.
Apparently I take more after my mother than I knew because CRINGING.
I haven’t been to the dentist in YEARS. There’s no good NHS one with spaces near me.
Wow, your dentist didn’t listen to your concerns about an infection and YOU DIDN’T HAVE A NEGLIGENCE CASE AGAINST HIM!? What a fucking piece of shit.
I’m so glad my ortho for when I had to get a severe underbtie corrected in my early ’20s was a reasonable human. (Also, completely coincidentally, an expert in fixing that sort of thing.)
My boyfriend had an adult tooth that never came in, but it was in the roof of his mouth, so they dug it out and attached a little chain to it, slowly shortening the chain until it had moved through the roof into his tooth line. Why. Why.
They’re thinking about doing that to me! GANGSTA.
ETA: If that happens, my new nickname will be “Tooth Chainz”
PERFECT. The tiny chain that was in my mouth was made of gold, I believe. (WHAT IS DENTISTRY.) Besides the initial surgery, the whole thing wasn’t too bad, really, it was just odd to have a tooth + chain in the roof of my mouth. I am very glad everything is in the right spot now, though. Ah, middle school, a great time for everything, including teeth.
My sister had this AHHHHHH it was a horrible thing to witness.
When she was younger, she also had some kind of palate expander that involved my mother using a key to crank it open a bit more every so often (once a week, I think?). My teeth were also bad, but at least I didn’t need the medieval torture interventions, thank God.
I’ve had to do that for my daughter. Fun times.
I had this and it is as horrible as it sounds.
YES THEY DID THAT TO ME. It was a weird time. Mostly I remember fiddling with the little chain that dangled from the tooth to my other teeth with my tongue. I was very glad when everything ended up where it was supposed to be.
Other fun dental procedures I’ve had basically consist of pulling most of my baby teeth, which just did not want to fall out, and four of my adult teeth, because my mouth is too small, apparently. For a total of like…twenty? Twenty-four? Don’t know anymore. Also braces for five years. WHOA SORRY NOT TRYING TO OUT-DO TOOTH STUFF, just over-sharing. :-/
All medical lasers should beep and boop. It would be comforting.
I too am missing the two teeth adjacent to my front ones! Phantom teeth twins! I too had the removable retainer with fake teeth attached which would now be a hilarious party trick, but was at the time basically the reason I am still unable to speak to new people without inwardly wishing I could stab myself in the eye just to have something more pressing to worry about. I too was told I should get implants; however, the years of dental anxiety have left me so paralyzed that I am still wearing the “5-year” bridge my dentist put in when I was…oh…15? Meaning I am…um…many years overdue. I dream of it falling out in public at least once a week.
Triplets! I had the retainer and would take it out to make my friends laugh. But yeah, missing some of my front teeth definitely contributed to my social anxiety. That, and getting hit in the mouth when I was 14, leaving my two front teeth – the real ones – discolored, which no amount of bleaching (external AND internal – my dentist put bleach-soaked cotton inside my teeth after the root canal *shudder*) will fix.
But…5-year bridge? I have never heard of this! Yikes, now I am scared my bridges will fall out – they already have and have been replaced once.
Thanks for this story. I have 2 adult teeth that never came in. I wear a plate with teeth for the last 20+ years. It works and looks fine but it’s a pain to clean. I wondered about that teeth in an hour thing. I will wonder no more.
I am currently a quivering ball of dental-related anxiety* because I am RIGHT NOW on the cusp of being told, “Sorry, you need a root canal.” I needed Valium to have the fillings done (filling which, by the way, are now going to have been POINTLESS since we now probably have to do a root canal on one of those same teeth) so the idea of having a root canal, plus the near constant pain I’ve been in for 4 weeks, has left me a wreck.
I probably, in retrospect, should not have read this article but…
*as anyone who is unfortunate enough to follow me on Twitter already knows
Meanwhile, with my small mouth and large teeth, I have endured a grand total, combining baby and adult teeth, of SIXTEEN extractions. The final four were under sedation, and the experience was infinitely preferable to the horror and pain of those stupid huge Novocaine needles. Were I still religious, I would be praying fervently for my daughter to have her father’s obnoxiously-good dentition.
I am thinking of breaking of with my boyfriend, but his perfect teeth and our phantom future progeny are begging me to stay. I wouldn’t wish my teeth on anyone.
It’s a hell of a lot easier to fix shitty teeth than a shitty marriage, though. Your call.
Wow, and I thought *I* had a lot of extractions. Tiny mouths, unite! I have a little game I play at the dentist, called “nope, you’ll need the pediatric size in that!” Whenever I have anything done, I tell them off the bat they’ll need the pediatric size in whatever it is they’re using. Then they spend ten minutes trying to fit progressively smaller implements (impression trays, bite blocks, etc) until (drumroll) they end up using the pediatric size, and invariably comment on how small my mouth is.
I also secretly kind of love that I always get a Disney toothbrush when I go for cleanings.
Yeah, same, though I forget the actual number. My baby teeth just didn’t come out at all. Twenty? Sad fistbump of tiny mouth solidarity.
Wow I am just now realizing how grateful I am for my good teeth. Wow wow.
I mean, great story, but eeeek. Teeth.
i am always afraid to going to dentist. I was searching for dentist in houston but can’t find any good one.
i am always afraid to going to dentist. I was searching for dentist in houston but can't find any good one.
I had a friend that had the temporary wiring of teeth. She would freak me out some times by popping them off when ever I would look at her. If she wouldn’t have done that I would have had no idea that they were fake. http://www.northridgedental.ca/en/
i don’t like fake teeth.