TMJ, Styes, Tornado Drills, and Leaky Sinks
Today, I am going for my final fitting of my newest TMJ bite plate.
Yeah, most girls of a certain age are getting fitted for a lovely, flowy, white gown so they might marry their Prince Charming.
Me? I'm getting a bite plate, because I have Temporomandibular Joint Disorder. Allow me to be your cautionary tale, kids. While I was never, ever allowed to chew gum that wasn't sugar free, I was allowed to chew gum. And as long as I could afford to purchase it (through allowances and birthday money), then I could chew as much of it as I wanted.
And I did.
All through grade school.
And high school ... oh Lord, have mercy, ALL. THROUGH. HIGH. SCHOOL.
Then I hit college. And I was still chewing gum. But then I was introduced to stress. At the ripe old age of 20, I had the jaw of an 80 year old.
I suppose it is never good when your dentist asks you to open your mouth, and your jaw pops so badly that he actually cringes. Yeah, poor Dr. Renshaw, I just make him cringe ever single time I open my mouth, and he always looks at his hygienist and says, "Oh my! Did you just hear that?"
And I'm thinking to myself, "Who didn't hear it?" That's what I want to know.
So, today, I am going to get that fitting.
The stye is still there ... mocking me ... daring me to do something to make it go away.
I'm told I shouldn't wear makeup, but let's be honest here, people. Me without makeup is just plain scary. It is. Not lying about it. So, I wear makeup ... and I will probably infect the other eye, and then that stupid stye will have the last word.
We have a tornado drill today. Since this is part of tornado alley and all, I suppose it's a practical drill to do.
Remind me again ... why did I, the tornado-phobe, decided it would be a good idea to move to a state that has them ... ALL. THE. TIME.?
Oh, that's right. A job. Yep. That was it.
My kitchen sink is leaky again. I just changed a something-or-another in that dang-blasted sink last year! It must be protesting. It's worked hard for all these past 12 months. It's done. It doesn't want me to run it any longer.
I mean the excitement of my life, folks. It's a wonder I have any time to ponder life with all this excitement.
Yeah, most girls of a certain age are getting fitted for a lovely, flowy, white gown so they might marry their Prince Charming.
Me? I'm getting a bite plate, because I have Temporomandibular Joint Disorder. Allow me to be your cautionary tale, kids. While I was never, ever allowed to chew gum that wasn't sugar free, I was allowed to chew gum. And as long as I could afford to purchase it (through allowances and birthday money), then I could chew as much of it as I wanted.
And I did.
All through grade school.
And high school ... oh Lord, have mercy, ALL. THROUGH. HIGH. SCHOOL.
Then I hit college. And I was still chewing gum. But then I was introduced to stress. At the ripe old age of 20, I had the jaw of an 80 year old.
I suppose it is never good when your dentist asks you to open your mouth, and your jaw pops so badly that he actually cringes. Yeah, poor Dr. Renshaw, I just make him cringe ever single time I open my mouth, and he always looks at his hygienist and says, "Oh my! Did you just hear that?"
And I'm thinking to myself, "Who didn't hear it?" That's what I want to know.
So, today, I am going to get that fitting.
The stye is still there ... mocking me ... daring me to do something to make it go away.
I'm told I shouldn't wear makeup, but let's be honest here, people. Me without makeup is just plain scary. It is. Not lying about it. So, I wear makeup ... and I will probably infect the other eye, and then that stupid stye will have the last word.
We have a tornado drill today. Since this is part of tornado alley and all, I suppose it's a practical drill to do.
Remind me again ... why did I, the tornado-phobe, decided it would be a good idea to move to a state that has them ... ALL. THE. TIME.?
Oh, that's right. A job. Yep. That was it.
My kitchen sink is leaky again. I just changed a something-or-another in that dang-blasted sink last year! It must be protesting. It's worked hard for all these past 12 months. It's done. It doesn't want me to run it any longer.
I mean the excitement of my life, folks. It's a wonder I have any time to ponder life with all this excitement.
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