Our author refused to wear metal brackets on her teeth when she was 16. The receipt for this: crooked teeth, a not quite so charming smile and the eternal question: should I or should I not?
I love it to laugh. So sometimes. If I don't feel so comfortable in a round, I prefer to smile in Japanese: either completely with my mouth closed or at least with a protective hand in front of it. Because when my teeth bare, one thing in particular moves into the spotlight: my vampire witch canine. And even if a lot of people find him "cute and personable". Above all, I think it's … uh … crooked.
Braces at 40? I do not know
I had almost resigned myself to my Dracula gene when my dentist asked me recently whether we wanted to do something about it. At first I laughed (in an extra Japanese way), then I started brooding. The before and after pictures in the brochure looked a bit tempting. But do I really want to iron out mistakes at 40 that I screwed up as a 16-year-old? Is really a question of principle. And do I really want to take a splint out of my mouth at work before every meal? It doesn't seem quite as "inconspicuous" as the brochures lead one to believe. Also not to be despised: the costs. After building a house or a family vacation with three children, the sums mentioned don't seem quite as astronomical as they were 20 years ago, but still: Thousands of euros remain thousands of euros.
The options to correct his teeth
Once you start to deal with the topic, you suddenly see them everywhere, the options for a vampire toothless smile. From so-called invisible aligners, to zack-and-way operations in beauty clinics, to internal brackets that cannot be seen. I started browsing websites and paging through brochures and saw perfect teeth everywhere. I was on the verge of ending the misery. But then I leafed through an old photo album. In it I saw myself at 16, myself at 20, and myself at 25. Always with me: the tooth. And suddenly I realized: He's still neither cute nor likeable, but he's now a part of me. And one that I can obviously live with very well.
My flaws and I – we are a great team
What got me all the thoughts about my tooth? I've decided to make friends with this stubborn comrade. Because if I’m honest, in the end it’s only one of twenty flaws. Where would we go if we eliminated them all? Of course, I could inject my fat from my butt into my breasts, have my ankles modeled more delicately and tighten my upper arms a round. Then you could have something done on the forehead crease, the too narrow fingernails and the too long second toe would be more difficult. Man, the list of flaws gets long once you get started. But who would I be without all of this? Maybe a woman who always feels comfortable in her skin and never laughs with her hand over her mouth. But maybe also a profile-less perfect woman who has long since lost her smile for sheer perfectionism. No, we won't even start like that. And so I simply see the tooth as a good exercise, because I put it this way: There will probably be one or two flaws in the next few decades. And then I'd rather say WELCOME than make plans to get rid of him. The price to be perfect is just too high for me.