I received my first tooth at the age of two and a half.
This was, by all accounts, particularly late in a child’s development –
and meant that I was also late to be weaned.
I did not enjoy teething so much;
its unpleasantness developed in me a certain disregard for these hard buds erupting from my gums.
I found biting with conviction on firm objects to be of benefit and suitable punishment for the teeth.
I would take to chewing anything I could get my young mandible around.
Surprisingly, my teeth survived this intentional barbarity only to be defeated by an oh-so-sweet sticky toffee apple.
This victory was short-lived,
these were primary teeth,
and primary teeth are only present to make way for adult teeth.
They sprouted anew
and by the age of six and a half,
I had unfortunately now gained a complete and fresh set.
I had no interest in their welfare,
I only had interest in the sugariness that passed them by and settled on my tongue.
My first adult tooth was not a victim to my thoughtlessness but was in fact knocked out.
At eleven years of age, a pre-planned “chance meeting” behind the school resulted in an inconspicuous bicuspid, becoming...
...an absent bicuspid.
The gap left by this missing tooth was thoroughly explored and enjoyed by my tongue with fond reminiscence.
I reached the age of forty eight continuing to lose teeth;
by then, I had lost enough teeth to begin missing them in my day-to-day mastication of food
even if my tongue was now lavishing in the smoothness of its surrounds.
I lost three more through medical intervention and through necessity, I gained my first set of dentures.
With them came a revelation.
It was only then, presented with the disembodied enamels,
that the full beauty of this substantial link between food, tongue, throat and stomach became apparent.
I began to place the form of the teeth above the function,
vetting and analysing food for potential risk of the teeth falling fowl.
Many foods in fact became avoided... avoided or mashed... filtered, separated and mashed again
all for the sake of keeping my prosthetic teeth pristine.
My fascination with teeth soon began to spread outside the realm of my own and into those of other toothed animals.
I marveled at their efficiency, their specificity.
These wondrous beasts had no need to worry their minds about their teeth.
They were blessed with immaculate design;
I would take inspiration from them.
I began to think about how I could combine these specialist points
that perhaps I could improve on my previous God-given and God-inspired dentures.
I realised the perfect cutting, tearing and mashing tools.
At the age of sixty-two, I separated the species
and sorted the teeth into categories of size and shape.
I gathered my resources and set to work on the construction.
Through my thorough studies, I became convinced that I had come to a combination of interspecies teeth that could not be better matched.
My meticulousness meant that they were not finished swiftly,
but they would be of utmost quality.
In my seventieth, the impressive and fierce set of teeth were complete.
In my seventy-first year,
I lost the tip of my tongue.