Chew. Chomp. Repeat.

Ice on the rocks

I can not remember when or where I started chewing & crunching ice, but I imagine it was sometime as a young kid in Texas on one of several hot days. It's a nasty little compulsion that bugged the heck out of my mom and makes my husband cuckoo crazy (though he's adapted to it), but I can not stop my little habit. And by the way, I've only had one dentist warn me against the activity. The rest have said it's either fine or not harmful (enough). No matter how chilly my mouth gets from the ice, the texture and sensation keeps me jonesing for more. And it really doesn't matter if it's crushed, chipped, or slushy ice, it's all getting chomped!

If ice is served to me in a restaurant, I don't even pretend that I'm not going to attack it. So to remain a Lady, I have to remember to request that any frozen friends are kept out of my water/soda/tea... this is especially hard when visiting the South.

I will only stop if I break a tooth, which I will probably do now, since I have been mouthing off proudly about my vice.