Dear Readers,
I've gone under the knife. More precisely, the knife went under me. Don't worry, I didn't touch this exquisite face. A formerly sensational molar needed to be removed. Though it's been noted that I have good oral hygiene, despite my best efforts, a tooth cracked. Then, while I was waiting to get into surgery, I must have accidentally swallowed the tooth. I really don't remember much about the terrifying procedure, but I sure felt funny afterwards.
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| Before |
The horror started late one night, when I was denied access to food and water. Unnecessarily early the next morning, my assistant loaded me into the car. I thought it was an attempt to make up for the fore mentioned insult, so I happily obliged. To my shock and dismay, we were not headed to the drive-thru, but the hospital. Immediately I knew this was a very bad thing. After a few agonizing moments in the waiting room, a tech shooed me back to the office. Someone shaved my little arm- I'm still upset by this, my fur coat was perfect- and jabbed me with a needle. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in some kind of holding pen, my mouth is sore, and I'm incredibly thirsty.
Seemingly at her convenience, later that afternoon my assistant shows up and to adequately express my anger, I stick her with the bill. Obviously, pulling a beautiful tooth was not my choice and submitting to the procedure was not listed anywhere in my contract. I've triple checked.
Once we return home, I realize how incredibly sleepy I am. I desperately want to nap, but ever the loyal gal, I struggle to perform my duties. My voice is hoarse (though sexy) and I just feel off. Sweetie P. Clark never feels off. Before too long, I realize that the throbbing in my head is due to the gaping hole in my gum where my once proud molar stood. Yet, I must confess that the rest of my teeth look fantastic!
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| Look at those teeth- and that face! |
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| Now |
Sweetie P. Clark
