Under The Knife

As I'm writing this, my head is tilted a few degrees lower than it normally is positioned. I tell you, it's my cheeks.

I went under the knife just a few days ago, not in an effort to look better (Oh God whatever will I do with more good looks) but to remove my wisdom teeth, those wicked food-trapping-decay-catalysing-abdominations. I thought, hey, fantastic, here's my great chance to act sickly and incapitated and distressed after the op, so that I'll get pampered silly.

In the end, I hardly needed to act.

First there was this tingly itchiness to my gums, where my wisdom teeth used to be. When I awoke in the ward suffering from the debilitating effects of the anaesthesia, I fought this insane urge to just keep spitting everything out. Before today I never accumulated enough blood in my mouth to gargle. Before today.

Then, the stitches. The first food to cross my lips after the op was pea soup, and since I was extra careful not to get any food near the sutured gums, I was surprised when Mr. Tongue reported traces of what might be pea skins stuck to the roof of my mouth. Hardy-har-har, imagine how amused I was when a quick peek in the mirror revealed a mess of black threads running amok in my mouth. I was so amused, you can say the op left me in stitches...

And the final tragedy. Perhaps, for the first time in my life, I was upset about looking swell, for it was only a matter of time before I developed a square-cut jaw. Superhero looks? Yes, if you're looking at me from the side. In what I believe to be an uncharacteristic and unprofessional fit of jealousy, the surgeon had cut one cheek deeper than the other, thus affecting an uneven swelling of the face.

I realised this when I relaxed completely, and found that my view of the world was just a little bit tilted to the right.

So sorry Limin, I missed that lunch appointment with you. As my fan club aptly put it a few months back, "we're undergoing upgrading to serve you better." =(