Bad Teeth.

It began with a bike accident when I was thirteen. I broke my two front teeth in-half when I face-planted into the asphalt.

My parents were poor, and we didn't have dental anymore...

So, it took them two years to fix them for me. Two years is a long time for an adolescent to deal with broken teeth. A long enough time to develop bad habits that would effect me for the rest of my present life.

I stopped brushing my teeth. I hated seeing them in the mirror. I hated how sensitive they were sometimes, especially my front teeth where the root-- the nerves were exposed. By the time they did get fixed, I'd fallen out of the routine of brushing and I was too difficult a teenager for my parents, or my siblings to encourage me to pick it back up. So I didn't, not regularly like I should have.

I grew up on Mountain Dew and eventually converted to Coke, sometimes Pepsi. Sugar became the taste of happiness, especially in it's carbonated dark flavors-- with cherry on top. I didn't know it would eat away at my teeth. I didn't know it would discolor them, especially without proper brushing.

When my wisdom teeth came in when I was eighteen or so, I didn't want to go to the dentist. I had a subconscious phobia about even looking at them. The more I drank my happy flavors, the more brittle my teeth got. In a few years those wisdom teeth started breaking molars as they pushed into my mouth.

I was too busy with the rest of my life to pay it much mind. I'm well versed in dealing with pain so it was just another pain to swallow. Chased down with Coke. The corrosive beverage eventually got to my veneers too. Eleven years after having them fixed, and one of them broke in half again-- on a piece of bacon. (Story of my life.)

I'm thirteen all over again. I can't help but look in the mirror and check out the damage. My teeth... they're yellowed-- coke and cigarettes no doubt. I cried. What had I done? For the second time in my life, I was embarrassed to open my mouth. More than that, I was ashamed. So much so I insisted my Twin do all the talking when we were out, including ordering my food or asking a store clerk where something was.

Not a year later the other one broke. Leaving my mouth a mangled mess of discolored corroded and broken teeth. Life hasn't been favorable for maintaining dental insurance and money is a battle all it's own. My teeth have become a reflection of the hope I have in ever fixing them.

You'd think I'd stop drinking that taste of happiness for the colors of pain it's caused, but it's like an addiction. A pleasant chaser for the more sour swallow of shame.

|| another-proser ||