Well, it's official. I need to get that brown tooth fixed.
I smiled at Stewart tonight and he looked at my teeth and said, "Wow, you have a gold one!" (He's into gold teeth, having seen them on pirates.)
My smile stiffened as suspicion grew in my breast. "Which one do you think is the gold one?" I asked, sinkingly certain I knew what the answer would be.
"That one," he grinned, pointing to the Tooth-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Still somewhat in denial, I asked him to point to it again, hoping that it was a mere coincidence. Alas, he pointed unswervingly to It.
I decided then and there that no matter the cost, the tooth would be fixed.
It's either that or just full-on succumb to the pirate look. I mean, yeah, Keira Knightley didn't exactly go the blacked-out teeth route in World's End, but I could pull off a less-hot swashbuckling style, right? I could get some filthy rags, put some beads in my hair, strap on a cutlass and just go with it!
On the other hand I don't want to lose my kids when people think I've had a Britney-style meltdown, so I guess I'll just get the tooth fixed.
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