I have wonky bottom teeth. They didn’t used to be wonky but I sucked my thumb well into my thirties and over the last 5 years it’s like they just lost the will to stand straight. I feel ya teeth, I feel ya. (They didn’t get the #RESIST message..)
Most days it doesn’t bother me.
Other days I compulsively run my tongue over them until it’s sore. My mind races with negative thoughts about how unattractive it looks. How unlovable it makes me. How it will always be the first thing people notice about me and that will be the image in their head whenever they think about me or try to describe me. (My previous post on intrusive thoughts forgot to mention the body image bully the lives in my head).
If it’s not my teeth, it’s my forehead. Not my forehead? My wobbly tummy. My shitty hair. My dumb dress-sense. Yadda, yadda.
Alcohol and drugs used to quieten those thoughts. A few years ago I was a lot heavier than I am now but I was so numbed to my feelings that I didn’t really care. I look back at photos of myself with horror but it was kind of nice to have a reprieve from caring SO much about my appearance.
These days I’m mostly happy with how I look. When I find my tongue getting sore from running it over and over my wonky teeth, I must remind myself how much of a kick I get out of life’s imperfections instead of dwelling on how my personal flaws make me less than.