I admit it -- there are a lot of reasons you could hate me.
From the seat-warmers in my car to having the most entertaining cat in the world, I am the subject of envy and bitter jealously the world over...or at least the tri-state area.
But of all the things you could hate me for -- she has such fantastic hair! her wit is simply unparalleled in recorded history! -- the thing I am most devilishly proud of is my Abominable Smile.
Yes, I have indestructible teeth. And you don't.
And much like my inability to spell correctly or do simple multiplication, (or, uh, read music), I do not take the best care of my teeth and it's never really been a problem. I mean, of course I brush, but after every meal? Who has the time? And flossing? Well, flossing is for losers. So I just sit back, relax, and let the Sonicare do the work.
Part of this is orthodontic rebellion. After an adolescence during which I had braces twice -- including one stint where I simultaneously had braces and a retainer -- with the end result being that my fucking front teeth remain fucking crooked, I just gave up. I virtually never go to the dentist. In fact, before yesterday my last visit was in 2003, and I didn't even grow up in Appalachia.
Miraculously, though, I have never had a single cavity, and I fully realize how completely unfair that is. I also fully realize that by taking pride in what is essentially a happy accident, I am a dental asshole.
But a few weeks ago, I thought my luck had run out. I felt something suspicious on the back of two of my teeth. Armed with a makeup mirror and my keychain flashlight, (try and visualize it, Dear Reader, because it's just that stupid), I though I could distinctly see two holes in my teeth. HOLES. In which teeny tiny squirrels could store eensy weensy nuts for the winter. I was horrified, so I waited three more weeks and then called my dentist.
While waiting for my appointment to arrive, I literally had nightmares about it. I just knew I'd walk in there and he'd tell me I needed a total mouth replacement, and by the way did I know he was philosophically opposed to anesthetic? I also felt he'd state, (as he once did years ago), that if I didn't start flossing, I'd soon have "my mother's gums." Funny, I always thought her gums were adorable.
So, I go to the appointment, and because I haven't been there since the late 70's they have to do a complete set of x-rays. Which is fine, except for that the "technician" who was "taking" "my" "x-rays" had apparently never seen the machine before, and was also quite flustered by the fact that I'm two foot seven, and therefore wasn't aligned correctly in the apparatus. Or some such shit. All I know is, 10 minutes of solid radiation later, my sinuses felt fabulous!
Then they sat me down in the S&M chair, placed that degrading bib on me, and left me there to wait for Dr. Doom, (who is actually a perfectly nice older gentleman, but that doesn't serve the story). Anyway, the first thing he says to me when he comes in is, "So, who's the other dentist you've been seeing since you were here last?"
I never thought my first affair with a married man would involve bridgework.
"Oh, no one!" I say, perhaps too quickly, "I just haven't been to anyone at all. At least I'm loyal! Ha ha! Ha?"
So he begins rooting around in my mouth, (and, of course, asking me questions at the same time -- why do they do that?), and making faces and being all dentisty. I, of course, am petrified. Each place he examines I am sure is another cavity. I don't even know what a root canal is, but at this point I'm sure I need several, one of which will go all the way to my brain.
But then, suddenly, he sits up, tells me not to use tartar-control toothpaste, and try to make it back in before 2009.
Apparently, what I though were gaping caverns of decay were actually just gaps resulting from my teeth shifting, (which I say is definitive proof that braces are a scam). Yes folks, I remain inexplicably cavity free!
So, I guess the title of this post isn't really accurate. My teeth aren't really "beautiful" -- they're not super white, and they're not super straight. But they are resilient little fuckers, and that's good enough for me. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go eat a Snickers before bed.
...oh, and just in case you needed some visuals regarding the cat:
And no, when I started this blog, I had no intention of being one of those people who posts pet pictures. But I guess we can all see how that turned out.