For many years now, I have jokingly referred to my face as a Picasso. My eyes aren’t level. My lips are too thin. Nose is crooked. Teeth are way off center. Nothing is quite in the right spot. (And don’t even get me started on my ears…one is literally a quarter inch higher than the other.)
Usually when I make the Picasso joke, Mr. Wonderful shushes me. I’m sure this is just because he doesn’t want his taste in women questioned…
Anyway, back to my teeth. I have effed up teeth. The first one I ever lost as a kid was a molar. I have a baby tooth still hanging in there on one side. And when my parents took me to the orthodontist in 5th grade, they said if they gave me braces, my teeth might fall out. Apparently I have scrawny roots that wouldn’t hold if the teeth attached to them shifted too much. So I had retainers for 5 years. And now I have a little Tom Cruise off-center midline. Most people don’t pay attention to it. And I’ve come to love all my “artistic” flaws, so I don’t mind it much.
However, last week after his dental appointment, Mr. W and I began discussing and investigating each others’ teeth. I noticed for the first time ever that his bottom ones are a little crooked like mine. Cute. Then he started examining my midline and as I tried to explain that I was actually missing two teeth on one side (which might really only be one tooth because the permanent resident baby tooth accounts for the other), he bugged out his eyes and slowly recoiled, pointing his finger at my poor little chicken-lipped mouth moaning, “Exxxtraaa toooooth!”
It was as though he discovered an extra toe. Or an undeveloped tail. Or the severed limbs of my ex-boyfriend in my mouth.
“I’m just missing some on the other side!” I tried to set him straight.
I couldn’t believe the horror in his voice and his inability to get out more than two words to describe the atrocity he was viewing at that moment. It made me want to chase him, shoving my disproportionate chompers in his face, yelling “Eat you! Eat you! Eat you!.”
I was thinking about dressing up as something scary for Halloween. But apparently I’m creepy enough without a costume. And here I was just thinking I was a one-of-a-kind work of art…