That Perfect Smile

I am envious of those individuals with perfect smiles since I am not one of them. It’s not that I didn’t try. Being a child in Missouri in the 50s when girls needed perfect teeth, but boys just needed a career, I was told that braces were an unnecessary requirement.  In the 80s as an adult I realized that I would be happier if I could tweak a tooth or two. So I had braces- twice- once in the 80s and again in the early 90s.  Yet as my teeth were perfectly happy in their longstanding position, relocation was not an easy or joyful option for them. It was as if they wanted to fight back saying, “Leave us alone. We’re perfectly happy where we are.” And once rearrangement was established, the teeth stealthfully made their trek homeward, despite industrial strength retainers. Oh well, being a card carrying AARP member, I’m happy to have teeth no matter where they wish to reside, as long as they are in my head.  Ah, but what about their color? Everyone, it seems, has snow-white teeth these days. So I tried whiteners and bleach, and for periods of time my teeth gleamed. But after that first latte or sip of Cabernet, the brightness faded.  Thus, I age, but I live, and for that I am grateful. I can accept the rest of my other inexorable physical changes, so why not the teeth.  In fact, I’m told that young girls in Japan are having their teeth purposely altered so that they are no longer perfect, since imperfection is now an ostensibly appealing trait in their culture. I am therefore content, so long as you don’t blind me with your perfect smile. Or if you do, at least tell me that you like my hair.