Or maybe I should say I have the problem, since I have to live with him. AND HIS HORRIBLE FAKE TEETH THAT HE WEARS FOR THE MOST RANDOM OCCASIONS.
It's been just about a year since I wrote this post about how the teeth came into our lives. Let me say that again: a year. And yet ... the above photo? Was taken last week.
Let's ignore for a moment that they're probably crawling with, like, flesh-eating bacteria by now. We'll focus on the fact that it has been a full year, and what I thought (hoped?) would be a phase is clearly more of a ...
But no. The man may misplace the very symbol of our marriage, but he damn well knows where his rotten-ass plastic dentures are at all times.
Here's a photo of him wearing them in the Dairy Queen drive-through over the summer:
The cashier did a serious double-take.
Fun fact: he tried to order with them in, but they couldn't understand him so he had to take them out and repeat himself.
Or how about this picture from when we went - wait for it - Christmas shopping?
Because nothing says "holiday magic" like obnoxious fake teeth.
He recently flew to the east coast for work and as he was leaving I joked, "Do you want your teeth?" and the man actually hesitated as though he were seriously considering packing the teeth for a damn business trip.
I'd surreptitiously pitch them in the trash while he's gone one day, but I'm afraid that would be grounds for divorce. He would definitely notice their absence. Besides, he usually keeps them at the ready in the console of the car, because you never know when you're going to need disgusting false teeth at a moment's notice. *eye roll*
I'm thinking I need to stage a denture-vention here.
... Or at least buy him a clean set.