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- 12/07/14--09:38: _DIY Teeth Whitening...
- 12/08/14--14:42: _Dogs React To Leaf ...
- 12/30/14--16:20: _If We Were Honest A...
- 01/05/15--03:05: _A Reddit User Offer...
- 01/16/15--15:23: _18 Photos You’ll Fi...
- 02/06/15--12:43: _26 Horror Films Tha...
- 03/09/15--07:16: _A Customer Noticed ...
- 03/16/15--13:38: _17 Struggles People...
- 03/26/15--17:42: _8 Moments You Wish ...
- 04/10/15--12:07: _19 Gorgeous People ...
- 04/23/15--08:29: _Doctors Removed An ...
- 04/27/15--19:14: _7 Women Photoshop T...
- 05/21/15--06:16: _Revelations About B...
- 06/09/15--15:12: _What Happens When P...
- 06/10/15--10:54: _The Time I Dabbled ...
- 06/16/15--13:20: _We Know What You Ha...
- 11/19/15--03:15: _Can You Tell The Di...
- 03/02/16--13:01: _21 Photos That Are ...
- 03/31/16--16:05: _8 Struggles Lipstic...
- 06/28/16--11:16: _These Popular DIY H...
- 12/07/14--09:38: DIY Teeth Whitening Vs. Professional
- 12/08/14--14:42: Dogs React To Leaf Blower
- 12/30/14--16:20: If We Were Honest About New Year's Resolutions
- 01/16/15--15:23: 18 Photos You’ll Find Strangely Unsettling
- 02/06/15--12:43: 26 Horror Films That Will Make You Never Want To Have Sex Again
- 03/16/15--13:38: 17 Struggles People With Bad Teeth Know To Be True
- 03/26/15--17:42: 8 Moments You Wish Someone Would Say Something
- 04/10/15--12:07: 19 Gorgeous People With Gap Teeth
- 04/27/15--19:14: 7 Women Photoshop Their Own Bodies On An App
- 05/21/15--06:16: Revelations About Being Brown In A World Of White Beauty
- 06/10/15--10:54: The Time I Dabbled In Do-It-Yourself Dentistry
- 06/16/15--13:20: We Know What You Have Stuck In Your Teeth
- 03/02/16--13:01: 21 Photos That Are Too Real For Anyone Who Wore Braces
- 03/31/16--16:05: 8 Struggles Lipstick Lovers Know Too Well
- 06/28/16--11:16: These Popular DIY Hacks Can Really Eff With Your Skin
Is it worth the money? What do you think?
BuzzFeedBlue / Via youtube.com
No dogs were harmed in the making of this video.
BuzzFeedBlue / Via youtube.com
“I’m gonna lose 10 pounds…then gain 20…”
BuzzFeedYellow / Via youtube.com
“I can’t help everyone in the world, but I can help you.”
Last week, Reddit user Tomato_Juice99 posted a message titled "My teeth hurt so bad that I feel like death is the only way I will get relief."
[Remorse]: Not all days, but most my teeth hurt and I have no way to stop the pain. I live in the USA and cannot afford insurance to get it fixed. If I had the money to get them all pulled and replaced I would, but the dental place told me it would cost over $7,000.
My life has been going well for the most part lately and I feel horrible for even thinking of wanting to die to escape the pain. I have 2 kids that need me and a family that loves me, but love doesn't buy new teeth.
Soon after, a Reddit user named SushiAndWoW responded with an incredibly generous offer to pay for Tomato_Juice99's dental work.
If this is true, I will pay for your treatment. Either at a place near you, or if it's more cost-effective, I will buy you a ticket to Costa Rica, and for you to get treatment at a reputable clinic here.
You can check my history to see that this is a legitimate account that's not into trolling. I can't help everyone in the world, but I can help you. Your situation hits a nerve with me.
Maybe you can make it up to me by posting before and after pictures, or something. That would be nice to see.
Can you watch this without feeling really weird?
BuzzFeed Video / Via youtube.com
If you’re not afraid of getting down and dirty, you’re not paying attention. Warning: SPOILERS for many movies ahead!
Rosemary's Baby (1968)
Directed by: Roman Polanski
Written by: Roman Polanski
What it's about: Pregnant Rosemary Woodhouse (Mia Farrow) becomes convinced that there's something wrong with whatever's growing inside her, and it's all part of a conspiracy that includes her husband Guy (John Cassavetes).
What it'll make you afraid of: Being betrayed by your partner into carrying the demonic spawn of Satan. Also, post-sex scratch marks will now have you questioning whether you actually did the deed with the devil.
The Last House on the Left (1972)
Directed by: Wes Craven
Written by: Wes Craven
What it's about: Mari Collingwood (Sandra Cassel) is raped and murdered by escaped convicts. When the perpetrators show up at the door of Mari's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Collingwood (Gaylord St. James and Cynthia Carr), seek revenge.
What it'll make you afraid of: A blow job with teeth. To be fair, Weasel (Fred Lincoln) totally deserved it, but you'll definitely think twice about where you put your penis — not that you shouldn't already!
Don't Look Now (1973)
Directed by: Nicolas Roeg
Written by: Allan Scott and Chris Bryant
What it's about: After the drowning death of their daughter Christine, John (Donald Sutherland) and Laura Baxter (Julie Christie) take a trip to Venice, where they meet a blind psychic (Hilary Mason) who claims she can see Christine.
What it'll make you afraid of: The inextricable link between sex and death. You might think you and your wife are finally moving past the death of your daughter, but you'll later flash back to that passionate fuck-fest when you're bleeding out.
Flesh for Frankenstein (1973)
Directed by: Paul Morrissey
Written by: Paul Morrissey
What it's about: Baron von Frankenstein (Udo Kier) is obsessed with creating a master race to serve him, and he hopes the head of a lustful stableboy (Joe Dallesandro) will speed up the breeding process.
What it'll make you afraid of: Being used — do you genuinely want to get down with that person, or are you being manipulated by a mad scientist? Also, rough sex can result in disembowelment, apparently.
There’s being nice to your waiter and then there’s THIS!
Brian Maixner is the guy in the red shirt down there. He's a waiter at the Doo-Dah Diner in Wichita, Kansas.
Unfortunately, Maixner has struggled with serious dental problems since he was a kid. He was missing teeth and many of the ones he did have were infected. He didn't have the money to get them fixed either.
All of that changed, incredibly, when Maixner waited on an out-of-towner who happened to stop by the diner. Attorney Fred Boettcher told local reporters that he struggled with similar dental problems as a child.
When he saw Maixner's smile, Boettcher decided to do something really special.
Smile! If you can.
The nightmarish torture of having braces...
MGM / Via televandalist.com
... Only for them to go crooked again as an adult.
Yeah, I know, should've worn my retainer more.
Capitol / Via buzzworthy.mtv.com
Never being able to eat caramel or anything sticky that might pull out a crown.
Universal / Via maudit.tumblr.com
Constantly being reminded of how crooked your teeth are when you eat.
Don’t be that person.
BuzzFeedVideo / Via youtube.com
Like the embarrassing "skirt in tights" moment.
Someone save her!
Or the classic food stuck in your teeth nightmare.
Why is he just smiling like everything is normal?! Everything is not normal!
Next time you see something like this...
USE YOUR WORDS. And do some good for humanity.
Mind the gap.
Fun fact: Gap teeth are considered a sign of beauty in many cultures.
In France, they're called dents du bonheur or "lucky teeth."
And in Australia, they're considered a sign of future wealth.
In parts of Africa — Ghana, Namibia and Nigeria — gap teeth are considered a sign of fertility.
Yamini Karanam jokingly claimed that her “evil twin” had been torturing her for years.
This is Indiana University PhD student Yamini Karanam. The 26-year-old decided to seek medical help after she started having problems listening to conversations.
Karanam told NBC4 News that she could not understand what was going on when two or more people were talking at the same time.
Writing on her blog in March, Karanam said she began experiencing headaches, then started making "slips and misses" at work and found herself struggling to read.
Doctors investigated and thought they discovered a tumour, although different experts could not agree on what action to take.
So, using $32,000 her friends had raised, the PhD student went to the Skull Base Institute in Los Angeles, the Washington Post reported.
It was there that her surgeon, Dr Hrayr Shahinian, made a remarkable discovery.
During keyhole surgery, Shahinian discovered a teratoma, also known as an embryonic twin, in Karanam’s brain.
The teratoma was reportedly found with bone, hair, and teeth.
Karanam jokingly referred to it as her "evil twin" during an interview with NBC4 News.
“[It’s] has been torturing me for the last 26 years, can you believe it?” she said.
Doctors have now removed the teratoma, and Karanam is expected to make a full recovery.
"I was stuck with it much longer than I thought," she said.
"It doesn't leave you much choice other than to deal with it the best you can."
“Let’s give myself a Disney princess waistline!”
With the discovery of the app Facetune, which celebrities may be using to alter their Instagram photos, these women decided to see what all the fuss was about.
The sheer power of the app to reshape bodies was initially shocking.
BuzzFeed Yellow / Via youtube.com
It was also an opportunity to play around a little bit.
BuzzFeed Yellow / Via youtube.com
Not only does this app reshape your body, it can also smooth your skin and whiten your teeth.
BuzzFeed Yellow / Via youtube.com
Illustration by Linda Yan for BuzzFeed Ideas
I have my father's smile. I wasn’t always sure that was a good thing. We both shared a feature, a separation between our two front teeth. It was slight when I was a kid, yet as the years progressed, it widened and is the dominant feature to my smile. On my mother’s side, my mother, her siblings, her mother, her nieces, my cousins (we were a family of exclusively girl children until 1986), and lo, my own sister, were all blessed with fairly straight teeth. No space between. I was aware that I was different. But for the most part, no one ever made me feel bad about it. That’s really what we look to high school for.
Freshman year of high school by design is its own kind of hazing. An upperclassman in pre-IB geometry tried to do me a solid, chronicling a set of humiliations foretold. I was a nerdy, reserved dark girl with an asymmetrical bob, as was the style in those days, and really good at proofs. One day, he offered some unsolicited advice.
Him: “Have you had British lit yet?”
Him: “Don’t smile when they get to 'The Wife of Bath.'”
Him: “Trust me.”
I had no idea what he meant by that. But the immediate cosign from his friend, another classmate, only reinforced the warning: “Oh, yeah…Chaucer. That’s not going to be good for you.”
Months later, during my sophomore year of high school, their warnings would come into sharper focus as my British literature class zeroed in on the following passage:
“Gap-toothed was she, it is the truth I say.
Upon a pacing horse easily she sat,
Wearing a large wimple, and over all a hat
As broad as is a buckler or a targe;
An overskirt was tucked around her buttocks large”
This was also the year that Sir Mix-a-Lot’s seminal classic “Baby Got Back” ascended in hip-hop and pop charts, and blared across booming systems on ashy gray Midwest streets, the year when my male classmates perfected their marriage of dick jokes and hip-hop, and embraced their discovery of black female backsides. These were the tender years of youth and the bane of my fucking existence.
However, teenagers being teenagers, and I, the singularly gap-toothed person in class, all eyes shifted on me. As expected, a request emerged, set up for ridicule: “Hey, S — smile?”
I don’t think I smiled much in class for the rest of that unit. And if I did, I harbored great discomfort. I don’t think I stopped participating in class discussions; I was still my father’s daughter, defiant and gap-toothed, very much assertive in self-expression. I was still a nerd, but I cannot deny that I leaned on the strength of my intellect because I feared everyone had finally accepted this truth so wretchedly rendered in Chaucer’s portrait of "The Wife of Bath": to have gap teeth is to be ugly and to boot, sexually promiscuous. Even the textbook insisted that the trait was an imperfection, implying Chaucer’s portrayal as proxy for a widely accepted Westernized beauty standard.
Who the hell set things up like this?
In dentistry speak, the space between two front teeth is called a maxillary midline diastema. It is a genetic trait. It occurs across cultures and in casual observance, appears to have a higher occurrence among black communities. Some research notes black children exhibit more than twice the prevalence of gap teeth as white children. In books and articles I’ve read over the years, a worldview became visible about its value, ranging from "normal" to "appalling" to a "deviation from normal adult dentition."
There are plenty of stories I’ve been told over the years where friends and folks had a modest midline diastema, and their parents immediately ferried them to the dentist’s office as children to get braces to ensure its closure or invested in veneers. While at home, my gap teeth hadn’t been a viewed as a scourge or subject to ridicule, but at school, what was normal or incidental to me became a focus of imperfection by some of my peers.
The diastema in our particular black family bloodline is as indiscriminate as it is random. I had initially thought I inherited this distinction exclusively from my father and his line. But upon further reflection, I recognized the trait also exists in mother’s line. I’m missing some family photos, so I called my grandmother, my mother’s mother, the other day just to fact-check who else on that side may have had the midline diastema. She immediately chirped, "Oh no, you got solely from your father’s side of the family." I had to remind her that her first husband, my mother’s father, and the father of five of her children, also shared the trait. She had forgotten. The prevailing wisdom had been I had solely inherited the diastema from my father’s clan. Here, I wondered, how in world did I alone win in the diastema lottery? How did I become an outlier? Shouldn’t they have it too? I hadn’t realized before that I was never made to feel different because of it within the family, but I was the only one.
I remember in high school seeing old pictures of Malcolm X and noticing there were pictures with him, his bright smile or speaking, where a small separation between his two front teeth were visible and other pictures where it seemed phantom, disappeared. Later, I discovered that he wore caps to cover his slight diastema. Even Malcolm X got caught up in moments conforming to Westernized vanity and beauty. What hope could there be for me?
It wasn't until I moved to New York in my twenties that I adjusted my own perception and understanding of gap teeth. I kept track to see who covered them or displayed them broadly with power. New York’s immigrant community, with its multitudes of the black diaspora, was a revelation. In Wisconsin, I was simply a dark girl with imperfect teeth. In some ways, I’m still a dark girl with imperfect teeth, a wide, distant space between, just like my father, just like his sister. Yet, in New York, Ghanian and Nigerian immigrants (or first- and second-generation Americans) would stop to ask me where I was from. They bristled or looked confused when I said Wisconsin by way of Tennessee.
“You look like my aunt." "You look like my people." "You look like a Ghanian woman” were things I heard from men over the years I’ve lived in New York. I wasn’t sure if that was a come-on, or a compliment. Yet, what I do know about being seven generations American — descendent of enslaved people and slave owners — is that I have an incomplete story of my heritage.
In these encounters with West Africans, I began a quietly informal inquiry to undo my acceptance of Westernized beauty standards, of white beauty standards, and the gift in these interactions had opened me up to recognize that not only was the diastema a sign and trait of beauty in these cultures, it was a clue from whence some of us came.
I relayed my discoveries to my mother some time ago. She listened, and suddenly, it hit her like a thunderbolt, a thing that never occurred to her before, and she spoke with a kind of wispy awe: “You know, I didn’t even think of that. We don’t know what our ancestry is. We don’t know what tribe we might have come from. I didn’t know that. That’s amazing. That’s interesting.”
A Nigerian acquaintance once told me how much he loved my gap. I learned from him that my gap teeth are valued, and in some instances coveted, by some Nigerian woman. I had never considered that I would posses anyone’s ideal. I live in America, and there are many reinforcements to remind me that small gap-toothed dark girls are the least desired. My gap teeth defined as a beauty mark? That shifted my axis.
That anecdotal evidence was confirmed by a 2009 study from the University of Ilorin in Nigeria assessing hereditary incidence and cultural attitudes of diastemas among Yoruba-speaking southwestern Nigerians. The study noted a modest rate of occurrence (just under 27%) of midline diastemas. Yet, it also revealed Nigerians view diastemas overwhelmingly favorably. Those without diastemas expressed desires to artificially create one. While dentists view the practice as risky — occasionally these procedures create their own set of complications — women ignore the risks to attain a prized beauty mark that the West deems disfiguring.
I may have rolled my eyes hard when I came across an article a few years back that heralded that gap teeth were on the verge of becoming a hot fashion trend. When runway models in 2010 and 2013 were seeing a spike in calls for models who represented "quirky" features, a patter of articles surfaced claiming a culture shift in embracing what Western culture has always deemed a "mishap." Still, I didn’t see many dark-skinned women included in these sweet exhortations in what folks were branding as the beauty in imperfection. It read like backhanded compliments and erasure. It was still celebrating a white ideal, a feature prevalent in West African peoples. Why isn’t it simply beautiful? As the writer and poet Crystal Williams wrote in a 2011 essay for Tin House, “Sociocultural norms inform our standards — and definitions — sometimes so subconsciously that we act in response to what our culture thinks is beauty without understanding that beauty is at the root of our actions.”
The moment you recognize you’re conforming to someone else’s standard of beauty, when you can switch the gaze, the space between seems less like a flaw but instead a badge, a mark.
I met a woman a few weeks ago at a conference who was thrilled to see that I shared the gap. We’re both Americans, descendants of enslaved people and slave owners. She told me a bit of folklore about a woman with gap teeth as it connected with her faith and her father: “I’ll never get rid of my gap. I got it from my daddy and it is reflective of a woman in my faith. I’m proud of my gap.”
I’ve been asked and have asked myself why I never I got it closed. When I was younger, braces and dental surgery were less of a priority for my parents, who were working to make ends meet. When I was 13, the dentist explained that he’d have to break my jaw, wire it shut, and then apply braces to maybe close the gap. That seemed like a lot of pain to endure for some measure of acceptance by my less enlightened classmates. I had the luxury of developing a thick skin when people unfamiliar with a small, dark girl with gap teeth would enter their social universe. If I wasn’t beautiful, at least I was smart as hell. I learned the craft of being exceptional. And over time, I recognized that I would lose something distinctly myself, a part of my identity and personhood if I covered or closed it. I don’t think I could ever be the me I am without it.
Last week, my mother’s youngest sister informed me that her 8-year-old daughter has a diastema. Neither parent has gap teeth. My cousin still loves Barbies, plays pretend, and goes to school, no one yet marking her difference. “You thought you were alone all this time,” my aunt told me, “but who knows — she may need to come to you. She needs you to shine so she’s beautiful too.”
In hindsight, I wonder if scholars might have Chaucer’s read of "The Wife of Bath" all wrong. As I revisited her tale, this old woman, gap-toothed, full-figured, was full of rigor and humor, and kind of a sex-positive feminist for medieval Europe. She was so unapologetically herself, recounting all her loves, triumphs, and disasters, that I realized that she gave nary a fuck. And I am my father's daughter: gap teethed and easy with smiles, suffers no fools. Here, in the words of Zora Neale Hurston, I "love myself when I am laughing. . . and then again when I am looking mean and impressive."
Want to read more essays from Inheritance Week? Sarah Hagi wrote about paying remittance. David Dobbs explained the genetic research industry’s exaggerated picture of genetic power. Susie Cagle wrote about the difficulty of selling her grandmother’s clothes and the worth of vintage. Sharon H. Chang wrote about society’s fixation with mixed-race beauty. Chelsea Fagan compiled lessons on love and money from our parents. AJ Jacobs wrote about planning the world’s largest family reunion. And finally, Rosecrans Baldwin wrote about reciting poetry at public gatherings, something he inherited from his grandfather.
“This has been the most body-positive week I’ve ever had.”
Mirrors are everywhere. They're there when you wake up, go to work, and go to the bathroom. What if you went a full week without looking at one? We got five participants to do exactly that, and they came out with a new outlook on body image.
Nearly everyone mentioned how much they do look at themselves in their mirror daily, as it was an essential part of looking and feeling good to them.
They were about to go from all to nothing real quick.
Maritsa Patrinos / BuzzFeed
I lost a tooth while eating pizza at work. "Lost" as in, like, it was nowhere to be found.
It was already a bad day. I was preparing Christmas merchandise for the boutique chocolate café where I worked and, because the hand-packaged items were selling faster than I could package them, I was falling further and further behind.
My boyfriend Ian had come with pizza to cheer me up.
It was 9 p.m., and Ian and I were the only people in the warehouse. I planned to stay several more hours to make sure there would be plenty of chocolates available the next morning for everyone who needed a quick, moderately cute, sweet, edible gift under $25.
“I think I swallowed my tooth,” I said, feeling the outside of my throat with my fingers as if the tooth might be poking out of it. I only noticed that it was gone because I would periodically check that I had all my teeth still. I’d glide my tongue across the front of them, and this time, they weren’t all there.
How long had my tooth been missing? I had no idea. The pizza had a large, thin crust with caramelized onions, mozzarella, arugula, garlic, and lemon-thyme oil. The slices were pretty big. Did any of these details help? No, not really. But it had only been missing for a few seconds, I thought. I was bound to have thought of some practical use very soon.
It wasn’t a real tooth. It was one of the two tooth-colored, tooth-shaped pieces of plastic that sat on either side of my front top teeth. These were attached to another piece of plastic, pink and semi-translucent, that had been molded to fit into the roof of my mouth.
OK, it was dentures. Though the specialized orthodontia term for it is “flipper.”
Flippers have a lifespan of less than one year and are meant to be a temporary fix for missing teeth. They are not as expensive as the permanent fix, but they are still expensive, and I didn’t have dental insurance, so I tried to take care of them so they’d last as long as possible. This particular flipper was the fifth I’d owned in eight years. I was supposed to take it out before I ate, because biting into food weakens the bond between the fake teeth and the pink plastic. But taking it out when it had recently been glued in with denture adhesive was likely to break it as well, so I would decide whether or not to take it out on a case-by-case basis. I made the wrong choice this time.
I took out what remained of my flipper and examined it. The tooth had cleanly snapped off from the thin pink plastic. I touched the other tooth. It felt firm.
I went to the bathroom, laid some brown paper towels in the sink, and ran water over them so they would stick, creating a cover for the drain. I performed each action calmly and methodically, as if I had been trained to handle this kind of emergency. I then made myself vomit.
Vomit carefully, I told myself, because there’s a good chance the tooth could enter your nasal passages. And dig through the vomit pile even while you’re vomiting. There’s no sense in wasting any time.
Also, try to keep your back straight. You have a posture problem. You’re barfing, so don’t worry about it right now. This is more like just a general reminder. It could lead to serious issues down the line if you’re not careful.
Speaking of which, weren’t you supposed to be joining the gym? Or something? And something about trying to eat better?
Oh, and don’t forget that your new showerhead is going to be delivered on Monday, so make sure you don’t leave the house until it arrives. You’re working on Tuesday and Wednesday, so if you miss it on Monday you’ll have to call the post office to figure out how to pick it up. It will be a nightmare. Just make it your business to be home on Monday.
Or, wait, maybe it’s coming on Tuesday.
I can always tell how freaked out I am by how quickly and seamlessly I lose my grip on rationality.
Ian stood behind me as I searched through the barf, horrified. I knew I was testing the limits of what I could do in front of him. As it was, we had very few boundaries. We could burp, fart, pick zits, and pee in front of each other, no problem. We had barfed in front of each other when we were sick or drunk, but we hadn’t yet broached the subject of whether or not we could then dig through vomit with our fingers. It just hadn’t come up yet.
My two missing teeth had been missing since my permanent teeth came in. My baby teeth fell out, and every tooth but those two grew in. I had evenly gappy teeth until I was 15, when I got braces to shove them all into their correct places. Once there was enough room, two fake teeth were attached to my braces, dangling there until my braces came off, when I got my flipper. The next step was dental implants, but my family had exhausted my dental plan with braces, and we had no money. Dental implants were very expensive, and would have to wait.
If I had been more forward-thinking I would have asked, Wait for what? And for how long? Until I’m done with high school? When I’m in college? After college? In my thirties? When will dental implants ever be possible? But I have never been very forward-thinking, and those questions didn’t occur to me for a very long time.
Clearlake, the town I grew up in, has a big meth problem and a big poverty problem. Ask anyone in the region about Clearlake, and they’ll tell you some variation of “no one in Clearlake has a full set of teeth.” It’s even on the Urban Dictionary page for “Clearlake, CA.”
Once, someone in Clearlake found a human skull in their yard, and the big joke was “how are they going to identify the skull without dental records?” Har har.
I knew that the joke wasn’t meant for people with congenitally missing teeth, like me. It was directed toward meth heads who used until their teeth fell out. But I felt personally insulted by the stereotype; I may not have been on meth, but I did live in Clearlake, I did have missing teeth, and I was too poor to fix them.
After high school I left Clearlake, put myself into debt to attend an expensive private art school, and got a job catering to the high-end chocolate cravings of Oakland’s most privileged stay-at-home mothers. I had done so much to separate myself from the stereotypes of my hometown, and in a single second all the shame and embarrassment came rushing back.
I was still the poor, toothless girl I had always been.
Maritsa Patrinos / BuzzFeed
The tooth wasn’t in the sink, as far as I could see. I barfed again, and it wasn’t in the sink then, either. I barfed and barfed, until all all that came up was bile. The tooth was nowhere. I had swallowed it and my body refused to choke it up so that I would be reminded of my place in the world. Otherwise it was stuck in my nasal passages and the area around it would become infected and swollen and the mass would prevent nasal discharge from leaving my body and would build up inside my brain and slowly kill me.
I lazily stirred the sink, hoping there was some chance I had missed it, not wanting to say goodbye just yet.
“Here it is,” Ian said. He was looking into the pizza box across the room.
Exhausted, I dragged myself over to the pizza box, knocking over carefully stacked bags of homemade chocolate-covered marshmallows, and weakly examined the tooth, confirming that it was my tooth and not some other stray pizza-box tooth.
At home, I glued the tooth back onto my flipper with regular superglue. The internet said it was barely toxic.
It’s just a little something. Right…there.
The stereotype is a lie.
“What do you mean I have to wait ANOTHER three months to get my braces off?!”
When you suffered for what felt like an eternity while the orthodontist tried to take a dental impression:
When they put spacers in and it felt like your teeth were giving birth:
When you first got your braces and it felt like your entire mouth was protruding by a foot:
Warner Bros. / Via Twitter: @edenolivia_
When nobody told you the unexpected side effect that you'd be drooling like a hungry dog for the first week after having your braces put in:
Comedy Central / Via Twitter: @UmerHayatLOL
“NARS lipstick or groceries…?”
BuzzFeed Yellow / Via youtu.be
Pinterest = why I have trust issues.
BuzzFeedYellow / Via youtube.com