Teeth are Overrated.

As I yawned in the mirror this morning, my eight fillings caught the gleam of the fluorescent bulb above me, and I smiled. Not because I'll never have to buy another radio antenna as long as I live, but because of the way in which my teeth became more metal than ivory.

You see, I was a very bright child. At three years old, I was quite aware of our financial situation. Grape juice was a luxury only enjoyed during communion at church. Toys were built from 1 part materials, 3 parts my imagination. And my teeth, well, it looked like someone with extraordinarily strong hands had grabbed my jaw and squeezed, popping out a second row on bottom, and giving me the wonderful vampirish incisors up top.

I knew we were too poor to ever afford braces, so, being the clever three-year old I was, I decided I would stop brushing my teeth, they would fall out, and I would get dentures. I didn't know, of course, that dentures had to be taken out and cleaned, interfered with one's ability to eat peanut brittle, and were not generally perceived as "awesome" by the general public. I thought you just got a brand new set of lovely and ever-so-straight teeth. (This, by the way, typifies the problem with clever children: they can do an awful lot with very incomplete information...).

I was getting cavities at an alarming rate, but I knew my parents would have to buy me new teeth when mine fell out. Braces could be considered a luxury, but chewing could not.

Then, one day I was visiting an older couple from my father's church. I had gone to the bathroom, and was washing my hands when I looked to the right of the faucet and there in a glass full of water were their teeth!! I was horrified. There was definitely a kink in this dentures plan of mine.

So now, years later, I have a mouth full of fillings as evidence of my three-year-old self's imagination, intelligence, and utter lack of information.