Dear LPG readers, 

Reading a recent tooth-related post on your website reminded me of a story I would rather write down than tell. 

It started last December, but its origins go back way further than that. Things might be a bit different now, but in the early 1960s, when I was at primary school, it was our differences which often caused a child to become singled out, and sometimes not in the kindest way.   If you were too clever and got top marks all the time, or you were particularly dim, you could find yourself the object of those cruel little comments that youngsters can make without even meaning to offend. Spots, rashes or a big nose, as well as all the painfully visible variants, could also make school and life more complicated to cope with.  

My oldest school friend was often singled out because of her lisp. When we were in infant school, so many of us were missing our front teeth that it did not really matter, but then came junior school when all those lost front teeth had grown back. Hers did too, but with a marked gap between them, and most of what she suffered was meant in fun, although I know that our classmates did not always amuse her. She had a gap between her two front teeth that was not very noticeable but made a marked difference in how she pronounced some words.  

It became one of her most charming attributes as she grew into adulthood. Honing your speaking skills is not just a challenge for those learning a new language; without realising it, we all do it, but for my friend, it was a little more of a challenge than for many. We would often smile at the differences in how we talked. 

When I was about 7, I fell and broke one of my front teeth and a few months later, I hit the other on the edge of the pool while trying to push myself out during a swimming lesson, and for just a month, I had her problem. It was then that I got just a taste of what she had been through, but after a month or so, the dentist capped them, and that was that for a while.   I was about 40 when the cap fell off and I had to learn to talk all over again with a denture, but I soon took it for granted, for the most part.

But everything changed at the end of last year. I have to blame a chicken bone for what happened last Christmas, a bit of gnawing on it severed the two little white reasons that I had been able to face the world for years.   There were the Christmas and New Year holidays, coupled with my painful reluctance to arrange a dental visit, only to factor in how long it takes to get a dental appointment these days. Despite my only having to wait a month for the appointment and another until my substitute reasons to smile with confidence again were ready, I learned a lot about what my friend has suffered over the years while she did a little gentle tooth-related taunting of her own. After all, she only had a little gap; I had nothing!

Eating became a messy business. There are so many foods you cannot order in public without embarrassment; trying to say some numbers so they could be understood by someone on the other end of a telephone conversation was another. Talking in public and remembering to smile with your mouth shut is yet another seriously trying learning curve, and I keep poking the roof of my mouth while brushing my teeth, which I keep forgetting aren't there. I am also giving Dracula a run for his money because the canine teeth seem so much longer and fang-like if I fail to keep that mouth shut. 

I get my replacement denture back next week, but I have learned so much about living with a lisp and a smile you would rather hide. I now understand what my dear friend has been going through all these years. 

JN, Croydon.