Teeth are fantastic little beings. All they need is a little brushing and flossing and VOILA! You have 32 formidable weapons of attraction in your mouth. They’re relatively predictable in that they don’t (usually) come in all sorts of scary shapes and sizes, at least not in human beings. All their imperfections can be understood and forgiven because everybody has THAT horrible toothache/dentist experience that they’ll never forget.
So far, nobody I’ve asked has admitted to having a tooth fetish. Lies! There’s a fetish for almost everything on the planet, so how can teeth which are even fashion conscious (if you watch FTV, you know that white is all the rage this season) not have any takers? I’m therefore making a case for teeth. Prepare to be convinced.
It’s universally accepted that vanilla is the most superior, most delicious flavor on the planet. When you look at teeth, doesn’t their milky whiteness remind you of this flavor? Teeth are also the only reason that you know how much meat rocks. Without them, how would you mince and munch the dead animals that you love so much?
It’s no wonder then that everybody takes them seriously, sacrificing time and considerable amounts of money to whiten, cap, replace and even stud them regularly. Everybody apart from me, that is.
When he was handing out teeth genes, God must have given me the underdogs of the bunch because with all this obsessive love I have for them, I, alas do not own a very admirable set.
I was a curious and active child who thought biting metal was just the thing to assert herself over her peers. My idea of kwepena? It involved kneecaps. I was also, for an unfortunate space of time, the sort of klutz who walked into a lot of poles. This took a toll on my dental health.
As a result, teeth are the first thing I notice about a person. To make cataloging easy for me, I put everybody I meet into one of three categories:
The good: This is where you’ll find the supermodels of teeth. If they’re so perfect that a p.5 kid can find the area and perimeter of every damn tooth in your mouth, this is your hood.
The bad: These ones aren’t horrendous, but are not too pleasant to look at either. It’s the biggest category ranging from OK teeth to the ones that are so sharp and vicious looking that their owners look like they’d like nothing better than to maul you to pieces.
The downright ugly: My favorite. I’m always happy to meet teeth that crisscross, stop short and act very bad mannered indeed. When they’re few, riddled with holes and cracked cement, my teeth empathize and glory in the knowledge that they’re not the worst in the world.
I talked to a couple of people who are as passionate about teeth as I am (this is a lie. They were the only people with any printable thoughts on teeth).
Iwaya says, “One of the first things I notice about a person is how they smile because it says so much how they feel about their teeth and in what shape they are. If I were going to procreate with someone I’d seriously consider their teeth and eye sight”.
But Raymond is less discriminating. He says, “I don’t pay much attention to teeth unless they really stand out, like the ones where the kissing becomes a delicate dance between pleasure and losing a lip”. When I ask him why he kisses people with dangerous teeth, he says, “Experimentation + variety + increasing my sample space” which is the sort of answer you just have to respect.