Monday 22 January 2018

Coffee Morning Whispers: My quest to not look like my father leaves me tongue tied

For once in my life I was staying mum which, as you all know, is quite unusual for me.

“What’s up with you?” Patsy wanted to know, as she picked flapjack crumbs off her ample bosom.

Here’s what was up. Like Jose, I too had been to the dentist. Unlike him, I didn’t need any teeth removed. 

“Well, what are you whingeing for? You should be happy then,” Patsy said.

I was delighted of course but the truth is I had been enquiring of the dentist as to whether I would be able to get my teeth straightened. 

Looking in the mirror recently I got a bit of a fright when I realized my dad was looking back at me. 

It’s not that my dad isn’t a handsome man for his age but he is slightly let down by the four butts of brown teeth in his lower jaw that stand at different angles in his gum.  These angles are mainly right angles.

Mine look like they may be going the same way. On top of that my head seems to be getting smaller but that’s another story.

“I will have to wear braces but I don’t mind that,” I replied. “But there is just one problem that will have to be resolved first.”

The girls waited expectantly.

“Apparently, I’m tongue tied.”

They stared at me in disbelief and then Patsy, as is her wont, started to guffaw like a donkey.

Within seconds tears were running down her cheeks and she was gulping for air. 

All she was short of was lying on the ground and waving her hands and legs in the air in hysterics.

“You…t…t…tongue tied.  Jaysus, I’ve heard e…everything now.  I hope he’s going to t…tighten it because if he loosens it we are all f…f***ed” she stuttered. 

I feared she may have a heart attack.

They all then decided they had to have a look in my mouth.  I duly lifted my tongue to reveal the damage. 

“Gross,” Maggie said, with a grimace. 

By now I was starting to attract a crowd of very curious strangers dying  to see inside my gob.

Patsy was about to poke my tongue with her teaspoon as if it was a jellyfish, but I called a halt to the shenanigans.

“Usually, the procedure is done with a scalpel with a cut under the tongue,”  I said. 

They all groaned and crossed their legs. I didn’t blame them. Just saying the word ‘scalpel’ sent a shiver down my spine.

“But you can also now get it done by laser.”

Nobody said anything for a while. Then Patsy piped up with the following gem: “You do realise your head is shrinking as well, don’t you!”


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