...and not very happy about it.

Ya know, I'm pretty fortunate. I could have woken up this morning and had to deal with getting used to not having an arm, or a leg, or both. I could be learning how to deal with a glass eye, or only having one kidney, or no gallbladder. I could be picking out scarves or a wig to cover a chemo'd bald head. I could be popping pain pills to deal with massive skin grafts.

These things are a lot more dire and really worth mourning than losing the majority of one's teeth. Or at least, it's what I've been thinking to keep me from really having a care about it. Okay, and worrying about getting my shit from MA to MN and then getting myself there in mostly one piece.

But now I'm here and while being with Padu is amazing and I'm loving it...I also have an extraordinarily large amount of free time. Which gives my brain time to do what it does best - worry.

I hate looking at the mirror. I hate looking at old pictures. I hate the way I look. I hate the way I sound. With or without the increasingly ill-filling denture, I sound like I've suffered brain damage without the handy excuse. I hate speaking a few words and then having a gag reflex so bad that I forget what I was saying. I hate talking to people. I hate the limits on what I can eat. I hate the drooling and the sucking up of said drool and the god-awful sound it makes. I hate the fact that my bottom partial no longer fits.

I guess if my voice wasn't one of the few things about me that I considered attractive or appealing, I wouldn't be so worked up about it. But it was, and I don't have that anymore. I don't even know what I'll do if I get a phone or face to face interview. Who the fuck would hire someone that can A) barely talk with her fake teeth or B) can communicate, but with a gaping toothless hellmouth that can pronounce "S" properly?

So I guess this is my way of saying that I'm on very indefinite, possibly permanent hiatus from....everything.