Mourning Breath

Your morning can’t be off to a great start when it feels like you’ve made out with your cat’s butt all night long. Thankfully, I have no cats, but morning breath is one of the worst thing to wake up to (second to a cat’s butthole).

I’m not ashamed to admit that oral hygiene is a big deal to me. If I see a piece of spinach waving at me while pried between two of your teeth, I’ll have to wave back. It would be rude not to.

But morning breath is a sneaky SOB. You won’t know if someone’s truly afflicted with the condition until it’s too late! It’s the ultimate test, I guess:  If you can give your honey a kiss without grimacing over what smells like a garlic encrusted garbage disposal, then it must be true love.

During a recent trip to the dentist I was informed that morning breath is caused by a bunch of randy bacteria that take advantage of the time you spend snoring (and not producing saliva or swallowing) to have huge feasts and baby-bacteria making orgies on your tongue. On average, THREE generations of bacteria party it up in your mouth per night.

I’m prone to believe anything said by people with a PhD, or that includes the words “baby-bacteria making orgy”.

These stinking parties are eventually washed away with some orange juice and a bagel, but if you have a tongue perfect for microscopic festivities, then you’ll wake up with the same problem every morning.

This is something to consider if we ever get flung into space and need to sleep for months at a time. Scientists better come up with an incredible breath mint for the day that my great-great-great-great grandkid wakes up after 4 months of space travel.

And for zombies.  God knows they need some breath mints after those brain eating binge sessions.

And for bears!

I want to know how animals deal with bad breath after waking up from hibernation. That’s got to be rough.

But if I ever wake up to a bear breathing in my face, I’ll probably die of a heart attack before smelling anything anyway.