I missed the past two Friday Failures because nothing really seemed to fail. I’m not saying I suddenly became awesome or that nothing in my culinary life went wrong, I just was in no mood to care about much. I was busy keeping up with my schedule of pain killers, trying not to drool too much in my lap when drinking, putting ice & heat on the green golf ball residing in my bottom left jaw (thankfully the bruising & swelling seem to be back to almost normal), finding a brand of iced coffee where the lukewarm/refrigerator-cold temperature isn’t too disgusting (still working on that one, by the way), that sort of thing. Finding failures for my blog wasn’t at the top of my priority list. (For those that don’t know, I underwent oral surgery. I’m really not transforming into a zombie… that I’m aware of anyway…)

This week’s Friday Failure is the story of a lonely perio-diet follower who has been having dreams of sticky s’mores, crunchy peanuts, gooey chocolate chip cookies, spicy habanero salsa, hot Christmas flavored coffee at the local Starbucks, iced or blended Christmas flavored coffee at the local Starbucks… none of which she can have. She’s very lonely in the world, especially when she sees her husband crunching on carrots (you’d be amazed how delicious carrots seem once you’re told you can’t have them), her brother drinking hot coffee, her dad who keeps asking her when she can have popcorn (imagine those little skins from the kernels getting stuck on two-week old gums… aaaack!!!), her mom popping almond dark chocolate morsels whenever she’s around. It’s torture really.

Over the weekend, when Mars suggested Wing and I go out to breakfast with him, the lonely dieter jumped for joy at the invitation (not literally, that might have hurt the mouth, believe it or not). At the restaurant, I looked at the menu and sighed mournfully while reading the pancake section. I was tired of pancakes and eggs, having been eating those perio-diet-approved breakfast foods all week. I wanted something else. Then the sausage sandwich caught my eye. I’d had it before there, and my brain told me it was perio-diet approved. English muffin with eggs, sausage, and white cheddar cheese. Nothing my recovering mouth couldn’t have. I was so excited. But when it came, the English muffin was toasted and crispy. My brain then told me that it would be fine to eat, despite the toasted muffin, so long as I followed the diet rules of keeping it on the non-surgical side of my mouth. But my brain lied. It had no clue what kind of trouble it was getting my poor mouth into.

My brain was so excited to taste the deliciousness of forbidden toasted bread that it caused my fork and knife to cut too large a piece. Strange as this may sound, it was hard to keep that bite on the appropriate side of my mouth. And as I was trying to do so without spitting it out onto my plate in a disgusting heap of half-chewed sandwich (I try to keep my dignity while dining out…), I cut my gum. I felt the sharp stab in the roof of my mouth behind the last molar. Thank goodness it was on the non-surgical side of my mouth, otherwise I might have had to take myself into the periodontist and confess my sin. But for the next few days, eating was painful. As if cutting a banana into bite-sized pieces wasn’t annoying enough, now I had to endure pain every time I chewed. It was so bad that I bled every time I brushed my teeth.

Moral of the story is this: Next time your periodontist tells you not to eat certain foods, listen to him. You might be slick enough to keep it from ruining the surgery, but the surgery gods will punish you by striking your healthy gums with the unsuspected weapon of toasted English muffin.

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