everybody's got their something... kinda

Ladies, back me up on this: we all have issues about our looks and our bodies, but there's something (or, if we're lucky, somethings) that we stand firmly behind and can totally support (ah, if only mine was a firm behind...) These might include:

nice hair (even though my friend "Kate" says that when a man compliments your hair, he's only saying that because he has nothing else nice to say. That Kate is so Chekhovian...)

nice nails (certainly not me!)

perfect skin (albeit only on one cheek or on the back of one's knees or something)

nice boobs (be they big or little, soft or firm)

long eyelashes, cute toes, shapely wrists, hot elbows... the list goes on.

Now, you'll notice that these are not major body parts (except maybe the boobs, depending on who you are... ahem, Christina). They're small, simple things that we women can take comfort in. "Well, I'm all bloated today, my butt's too big and I hate my life, but at least my toes are still cute!"

I wouldn't go so far as to say these are our favorite parts, per se, but then again, I can't speak for anyone but myself. Maybe there are women out there who idolize their eyelashes. Troops of girl scouts fond of the curve of their noses. MADD: Mothers Against Damaged Derma. Regardless, I feel confident saying this: should anything happen to ruin one of our fall-back attributes, the world is likely to collapse like a drunken game of jenga. Just ask Thea about her mullet.

Which is why, when I was sitting in the dentit's chair yesterday and the dentist told me that, at thirty, I had finally achieved what many, many people had done years and years ago, I started to cry. Yes, I got my first cavities. (a pair of cavities, at that, not a mere single one!)

The worst was yet to come. I had to fess up to my sister, who was flabbergasted over Thanksgiving when I told her that I didn't brush my teeth twice a day. "Oh Kate," she said, appalled, "oh, that's just wrong!" (and her husband sat behind her, usually on my team, but this time looking smug, nodding in agreement like one of Roald Dahl's witches) "It's no big deal." I said, falsely buoyed up by years of fluoride treatment and the prospect of dental insurance.

But now (even though I could keep it a secret and none of you would be the wiser) I'm publicly admitting to the world that I have had sub-par oral hygiene. This is going down on my permanent record. And I only hope that this will remind me to brush both in the morning and at night.

[In my own defense, you wouldn't brush in my shower either. The water doesn't go down the drain, and then your cute toes are swimming in toothpastey water. Bleck!]

Sigh. My fingernails are disgusting, I have no career to speak of and now my teeth are full of cavities. At least my hair's still nice. (albeit in a post-mushroomy kind of way...)