Pride truly does cometh before the fall.

My teeth have always been one thing that I like about myself. They are perfectly straight, and I have always been somewhat proud that I only have one filling in my mouth. The only thing I could probably say is that I need to get out those whitening strips again, but other than that, I love my teeth. And really, for the amount of money my parents shelled out for braces, why shouldn't I love them?

This week I had another dentist appointment. I was ready to be heaped with praises on how great my teeth were once again. So when the dental hygienist started paying particular attention to a few of my molars, I got a bit nervous. I definitely knew it was bad when she started to ask me some questions.

Her: "Hmmmm. So, have you had any pain or sensitivity with your teeth lately?"

Me: "No."

Her: "Really? Nothing around here, perhaps?" (poking around those molars)

Me: "Nope."

Her: "Well, I think I'm going to have the dentist come in to take a look at you."

Crap. That is never good. Sure enough, I find out that I have not one, but TWO cavities AND a possible third! On top of that, they are also "monitoring" another tooth. I was totally mortified, crushed, and was really hoping the other patients weren't listening to our conversation (you know how dentists offices are set up so that you're not in a room, but one giant room with 3 partitions).

Me, once they broke the news: "So, basically what your telling me is that my mouth is falling apart."

So there it is. My once glorious set of strong, beautiful teeth are full of holes. How the mighty have fallen. Now what do I have that I totally love about myself? The list of options seems to be getting smaller as I get older.