This one isn't easy to write. For a long time, I prided myself on perfect teeth. I suffered (5 years of orthodontics and permanent retainers) for them and I was proud of them. Smug, even.
But then the crushing poverty of young adulthood meant that I didn't keep up with my dental hygiene as well as I should have. I can't remember the last time I'd gone to the dentist. Years. Several.
I have a job with benefits now and so I went to capitalize on it. I've now been to the dentist four times. I had five cavities, much to my shame. I still won't tell my parents. There's something to chew on, Dr. Freud.
But I'm glad I'm getting this done. I feel a great weight is being lifted and that I'm repairing the damage my neglect has done, or at least as best as could be approximated. Still, I can't help but feel shame for there being active decay in my head while I've been walking around.
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