I’m going for the million dollar smile. So far about $10,000 has been invested in my mouth. I can’t wait to keep pouring money into it. I learned the other day that I’m missing eight of my adult teeth. I bet there were a few Neanderthals who died with more teeth than me, which is fine, because they didn’t have Crest Whitestrips. You may have had more teeth, Hairy, but mine are prettier.
The decision to fix the “snaggle” has not been an easy one. First, I get a lot of compliments on it. You would think this is weird, or something I would be offended by, but more than one gentleman has said, “I like that your smile isn’t freakishly perfect.” I could read into this, but I choose to accept the compliment with a “Thanks.” (Hot Girl Move #1: When a man compliments you, thank him.)
Second, most people don’t even notice. Or they pretend not to. I went through my facebook pictures just now, and in seven years, I cannot find a single picture that shows it. EDIT: Nevermind, found one. Here is my “before” picture.
Of course, the only snaggle picture had to be totally ridiculous.
Third, I kind of like it because it gives me a boost while trying to open wrappers, thread needles, or bite through fishing wire.
Fourth, Jewel already did the snaggle thing. I don’t want to steal her thunder. I go ‘bout my business, I’m doin’ fine. Besides, what would I say…
Jewel. She just gets me. Snaggle-Sisters.
So why spend another $3,000- $5,000 on something that doesn’t really bother me?
Because I can, bitches. Actually, because I don’t really have to.
This is the first time since 2008 that I’ve had dental insurance that covers orthodontics. You bet your jiggly ass that I’m going to capitalize on that shit.
Plus, there’s this face that people make when they want you to open your mouth and show your teeth. It’s sort of like a slack-jawed, squinty, crinkle-face (similar to the above photo of me not liking a pretzel). They don’t realize they’re doing it, but I’ve seen enough of it over my snaggle-toothed years to never want to see it again.
Finally, there’s my mother. The only person in the Universe who’s asked me, “How’s that tooth doing?” as though it’s a perfectly normal thing to ask someone. Mom, I know you’re reading this, and before you ask, my tooth is still pretty snaggly. Like a pirate.
So, wish me luck, and try not to make fun of me when I have to pull my Invisalign out to eat with you.
(If you’ve had braces/invisalign as an adult, what was your experience? Any gems I should know about? Share in the comments below. )
___
“So, are you just a blogger? Or do you have a real job?”
