Grin and Bare Them

What a generic adult female likes about herself

As a Chubby Girl, I don't get a lot of compliments on my looks, which is ok because I really don't look like this anyway. I look at myself in the mirror and think, I can't have THAT big of a tummy. Seriously, I don't think the mirror has it right. And photographs too; my face isn't that fat. I still look OK in skin-tight leggings
and a cut-off t-shirt, right?

OK, maybe not. But I do have one feature that I know is quite beautiful: my teeth (actually, 28 features, I counted). Really and truly, my teeth are gorgeous.

I went to the dentist a few days ago, and because I have such fabulous teeth, it's not cause for concern. I actually relish my half hour of sitting still in the dentist's chair with the broken arm rest, staring at the Pelton-Crane movable dental light or at the ceiling tiles, while my son sits in the corner and colors quietly and the hygienist scrapes away at my incisors, cuspids, and molars. As long as the hygienist doesn't try to hold a conversation with me, I relax to a state of semi-wakefulness. It's so rare for a generic mother of five to get 30 minutes of quiet time, so I take it when I can get it, and I can get it here at the dentist's office.

The tray of sharp instruments capable of piercing the unsuspecting tongue and slashing it to shreds of bologna doesn't bother me a bit. I hear the shrill whine of the drill in the next cubicle and think "Ha ha! That won't be me!" Why? Because my teeth are mighty fine specimens of bone.

And when the scraping of calculus from off the surface of my teeth (I ate my college math text book—rim shot!) was finished, the hygienist said, as she does every 6 months, "Well, there wasn't very much to
scrape off. You have very nice teeth." I smile and nod, agreeing with her completely, because this is a regular occurrence in my life. I've even had a dentist call another one into the room to say, "Look at her teeth. Aren't they perfect?" And various hygienists tell me I'm the kind of patient they like to see—one with
really good teeth. Even my little brother, who is a dentist, agrees. And brothers are usually quick to point out faults, so if he can't even find one, there must not be any.

If I ever feel unhappy about myself, I just need to find a dental convention and show off my pearly whites and I will feel all better. There's nothing like a room full of lovin' to make a Chubby Girl glow with self-esteem.

I do my best to brush and floss daily, but even that doesn't account for the sheer wonderfulness of my teeth. I have great dental genes, I guess. I've never had braces, I've had only three cavities (two of
them because of all the throwing up I did when I was pregnant) and the only root canal I had was because, when I was three, I fell on some cement and damaged one of my baby teeth.

So if you see me flashing a brilliant toothy smile, it's because I'm showing off my assets. And if you disagree, I'll show you again, only without the "ets."

Comments

[Mark Foxwell]

Hi, got here via superbabymomma by way of Creek Running North.

If I may be so bold, from your pic in your profile, you'd get a compliment on your looks from me whenever I saw you.

That ingenious method of adapting a mini-backpack is also very admirable.