Shally Shells She Shells by the She Shore.

Well… Tuesday I got my Frankel device.

It’s worse than I thought it was going to be.

I can’t talk, I can’t eat, I can’t laugh, I can’t sneeze. I look ridiculous.

And it hurts like a mofo.

Allow me to demonstrate.

Part A there sits on the outside of my lower gums. That part might hurt the worst, and it makes my lower lip puff out like a boxer with a mouth guard. Part B is in front of my top front teeth. Part C sits behind my lower teeth, and it really wouldn’t be too bad if it hadn’t had a sharp edge on it the first day I had it. While that problem was solved with a nail file, it cut the heck out of my tongue the first few hours I was wearing this thing and is still sore. Part D goes all the way to the roof of my mouth. Parts C and D combine to make a circle through which my tongue can fit. That is, until it gets blocked by Part B. Finally, Part E is on the outside of my gums and makes my face stick out way too wide.

Between this contraption and the blood vessel in my eye that decided to bust on Sunday morning, I am LOOKING GOOD, let me tell you.

I woke up in the middle of the night thinking I had one of those metal Easter egg dippers in my mouth.

Which, come to think of it, may have served the same purpose and been a WHOLE LOT CHEAPER.

Please send wine. And also a straw.