The title says it all: I burned the roof of my mouth and now I want to die.
I was just minding my own business. Trying to eat some dinner in peace (what was I eating? Some nutritious soup? Maybe I was drinking some soothing tea? Was it a frozen pizza with an internal temperature of 1000000000º Fahrenheit despite resting for 10 minutes? I’ll let you decide). One bite in I knew. The roof of my mouth was burned. The thin, sensitive layer of skin that covered my palate was no more. If I had the chance, I probably would have jumped in front of an oncoming 18-wheeler. If I had a sharp enough knife, I might have considered engaging in the ancient art of seppuku to at least go out the honorable way, rather than live with this pain.
There’s pretty much nothing worse than burning the roof of your mouth. It’s the closest thing possible to Hell on Earth, perhaps other than Michael Stipe solo concert. I feel like one of the ghost pirates from the first Pirates of the Caribbean. Drink will not satisfy and food turns to ash in my mouth. Nothing tastes right. Everything is coated with those “skin re-grafting” overtones. And eating something like chips becomes an exercise in self-mutilation that even the ancient Flagellants would consider extreme. And now that we’re into Lent, I can’t even enjoy my favorite Easter-themed candy, Cadbury™ Mini Eggs (I’m open to running ads, by the way. Call me). It’s horrible. I can’t live this way. And it’s always such a lingering thing, too. It lasts at least a day longer than you’d think it would, and even then you’re so mentally scarred you can’t eat anything but pudding and ice cream for a few days after. If I could force one evolution on the human race, it would be to make the palate a little hardier. Why does it have to be so sensitive? A good rule of thumb I have is that if a tortilla chip is sharp enough to puncture something, it’s too weak to be a part of my body. Maybe some scientist out there is developing a synthetic palate that does all the same stuff but is just made of metal or plastic. If they need a guinea pig I’m here. I’m easy to find. I don’t ever want to experience this pain ever again, and I’ll do almost anything to make sure I never do. Except eating scalding hot food.