Most of you, my cement associates, know me as Dianna-with-metal-thingies-in-her-cheeks. Not unreasonable, since I've had them there for almost a year and a half. Jacob knew me for a short time as Dianna-without-those-thingies; Jason, Erica and Michelle all met me once or twice as Dianna-with-a-lip-ring-instead. Even I have a hard time remembering what I looked like so far in the distant past, so I can only assume that you all find yourselves in a similar situation.
I regret to inform you that you're about to be reminded. I'm taking them out.
We've had some good times together, those metal thingies and I. We've gotten ourselves all-but-disowned together. We've been poked in the face by strangers whose curiosity outweighed their sense of personal space. We've been asked the same inane questions so many times we've wished we had a personal FAQ file ("Is that all one piece of jewelry all the way across your mouth?"). We've been stared at with expressions of bewilderment, hostility, sympathetic pain and occasionally admiration. We laughed together at the job interview in which both cheeks lost their jewelry while I was explaining my incredible qualifications and enthusiasm for the job. We sat in the front room of Gottsi together feeling nauseous after the painful post-interview re-insertion. We've collaborated in freaking Kristen out by making ridiculous stretchy fishy faces. We've gently helped countless surprised people remember the word "dimples" while they stuttered and gesticulated.
How, then, could we possibly be parting ways after such a long and wonderful relationship? Well, no one is an island. Not even with metal thingies to keep them company. We all must think of the health and happiness of others, in this case my teeth. While making funny faces in the shower this morning, I suddenly thought of my top canine teeth and how often I feel the insides of my metal thingies rubbing on them. Exploratory poking with a finger revealed alarming results-- as near as I can tell, the disks inside my cheeks have rubbed distinct depressions into the teeth nearest them. I can't be having that.
As someone who argues constantly against the assumption that piercings are dangerous and unwise, I can't walk around with my piercings causing incidental damage even if I didn't mind wearing away my teeth. It's the same reason I can't subsist on french fries and vegan cookies and be malnourished-- it undermines every health-related argument I can make in favor of my hippie-ass vegan diet. So I have to eat lots of fresh vegetables and legumes and take my animal-free vitamins and take out my piercings when they start having consequences for my dental health; I don't want to subvert my own subversiveness by being a hypocrite. But it makes me sad.
At least I'll always have the dimples. Or so I hope. *sniffle*Posted by dianna at January 7, 2004 12:05 PM