A Tiny PSA From Someone Who Just Got Her Teeth Yanked

Kas
May 27
4 min read

There is nothing quite as humbling as getting teeth pulled as an adult.

And I mean humbling in the deeply personal way. The kind where you’re sitting in the dentist chair with your little bib on, mouth frozen, jaw wide open, trying to act normal while someone is fully in there handling your business.

You can be grown. You can pay bills. You can have a job, a relationship, pets, responsibilities, opinions, a skincare routine, and a preferred brand of cat litter. None of that matters when you’re lying back in that chair with your mouth propped open like you’re waiting for someone to change your oil.

Suddenly you are not a functioning adult woman.

Suddenly, you are a scared little Victorian child who would very much like a sticker after this.

And honestly? I do think adults should get stickers after dental work. Or a certificate. Or at least someone gently telling us we were brave, because I don’t care how old you are, having teeth yanked out of your face is a weird thing to just casually experience on a random weekday.

The dentist and assistants are always so calm too, which is probably a good thing because I don’t need everyone in the room matching my energy. But it’s still funny because to them, it’s just another appointment. They’re moving around like this is totally normal, because for them it is.

Meanwhile, I’m lying there having a full internal life review.

Like damn. Every skipped brushing. Every “I’ll do it in the morning.” Every time I ignored my teeth because I was tired or depressed or busy or just being stupid. Suddenly all of those moments are standing around the room like little dental ghosts, watching me pay for my sins in real time.

So yeah, I guess this is the part where I become one of those adults.

Kids, brush your teeth.

I know. It’s annoying. I know adults say it all the time, and when you’re younger it sounds like one of those boring background rules that just exist to ruin your fun. Brush your teeth. Floss. Don’t eat candy before bed. Drink water. Go to the dentist.

But I need you to understand something.

One day, you may become an adult sitting in a dentist chair, getting teeth removed, and suddenly every adult who ever told you to brush your teeth is going to start making a lot more sense.

Tomorrow is not just tomorrow.

Sometimes tomorrow is gauze.

Sometimes tomorrow is soup.

Sometimes tomorrow is you trying to remember if you’re allowed to eat something, drink something, rinse something, touch something, breathe too aggressively, or exist too confidently without disturbing the fragile little crime scene in your mouth.

No one really prepares you for the recovery part either.

Because yes, technically you know you’re fine. People get teeth pulled all the time. It’s normal. There are instructions. There are soft foods. There is a process.

But then you’re at home with gauze in your mouth, drooling like a wounded cartoon character, trying to figure out whether the amount of discomfort you’re feeling is normal or if you should start writing goodbye letters.

It is deeply unglamorous.

You think you’re going to be chill about it, and then suddenly you’re treating mashed potatoes like a five-star meal. You’re staring at food like it personally betrayed you. You’re asking, “Can I eat this?” with the seriousness of someone negotiating a hostage situation.

And don’t even get me started on the blood clot thing.

I have never cared about a blood clot more in my entire life. Suddenly my mouth is not a mouth anymore. It is a delicate ecosystem. A sacred little healing cave. A medical terrarium that must not be disturbed under any circumstances.

No straws. No aggressive rinsing. No crunchy snacks. No chewing like you have rights.

Just vibes, caution, and an emotional dependency on yogurt.

The thing is, I don’t want to make this sound like a shame thing, because teeth are complicated. Dental care is expensive. Dental anxiety is real. Life gets messy, and sometimes you’re just trying to survive the day, not standing in the bathroom doing the perfect little nighttime routine like a toothpaste commercial with emotional stability.

I get it.

I really do.

But at the same time, holy shit, take care of your teeth if you can.

Not in a preachy way. Not in a “you should’ve known better” way. More in a “future you is sitting here with a sore jaw and would like a word” kind of way.

Brush them. Floss when you remember. Use the mouthwash. Book the appointment before something becomes a whole event. Do whatever small thing you can do before your teeth decide they are no longer interested in being team players.

Because adult dental problems are not cute.

They are expensive. They are inconvenient. They interrupt your snack life. They make you think deeply about soup. They make you appreciate chewing in a way you probably never appreciated chewing before.

And honestly, nothing makes you respect oral hygiene quite like having part of your mouth evicted.

So consider this my low-key PSA from the dental trenches.

If you’re a kid, brush your teeth.

If you’re a teenager, brush your teeth.

If you’re an adult who has been putting it off because life is annoying and your brain is loud and everything feels like a task, brush your teeth.

Not perfectly. Not in some unrealistic, dentist-approved, gold-star way every single day. Just start where you can. Do the thing. Future you deserves at least a fighting chance at eating chips without fear.

Because I promise you, sitting there with gauze in your mouth as an adult will make you rethink some things.

It’ll make you understand why adults are always going on about dental care. They’re not just being boring. They know. They have seen the invoices. They have eaten soup against their will. They have tried to sleep while being painfully aware of their own jaw.

And now I know too.

Unfortunately.

So brush your teeth, babes.

Do it for your future self. Do it for your bank account.

Do it for your ability to enjoy snacks without needing a strategic chewing plan.

And if nothing else, do it so you don’t end up writing a blog post about getting your teeth yanked while developing a suspiciously deep relationship with pudding.

Brush your teeth like future you is watching from a dentist chair, because honestly, she might be.

Talk soon, Kas ☕✨