HOW TO LOSE A TOOTH IN TEN DAYS
DISCLAIMER: Natalie has never seen the film How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days.
Dear reader, my name is Natalie Freisinger. I handle the “How To” articles here at Tease and Resist. My dream is to write about real things, like war and turkey pardonings. But here I am, writing another mindless How To assignment…”How to Lose a Tooth in Ten Days”. Boring, right? That’s what I thought. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Here’s the skinny: my friend Amy just lost her tooth (I hang out with six-year-olds). Amy spent weeks wiggling and pulling on her porcelain chomper to no avail. This got me thinking, women are always losing teeth by committing classic missteps. Could I lose a tooth by carrying out the same mistakes? Bingo. I found my case.
Little did I know that at the same time, a big shot dentist named Schmathew SchmcConaughey was placing a bet that he could make any woman keep her pearly whites in just ten days. If successful, he’ll get to be the dentist to freshen up Trisha Paytas’ veneers. What a schmuck. Turns out, he’s a fan. I was the target. Let the games begin.
Day One: We meet. He invites me for a cleaning and I chew gum the whole time.
Day Two: He hands me a pack of floss and I use it to tie his penis into a bow.
Day Three and Four: He clears my cabinets of anything chompy and chewy. I sweetly buy him a rabid dog with whom I play tug of war with my own mouth. I lose.
Day Five: Halfway. I straight up bite him.
Day Six: He leaves to film a movie called Austin Sellers Club. He says his hero is himself in ten years?
Day Seven: I kind of miss our games? I start using mouthwash.
Day Eight: He comes back with a big ass toothbrush, holds me down and cleans me from tip to tail. It is the most erotic experience of my life. He is like 57 years old.
Day Nine: My resolve is crumbling. I go with him to a home for untoothed mothers. I meet these women and hear their stories. I’m moved in a way I cannot describe. This is what I want to be writing about. Women who’ve spent their lives pulling trains with chains clipped to their molars, ladies who lunch exclusively on glass and sand, gummy gals.
Day Ten: This is the end and I still have my back right molar. He confesses that our relationship is a result of a cheap bet. I cry until I remember I’m basically doing the same exact thing. I have no tooth to stand on. We fight. We yell. In an act of desperation, I tie one end of a string to my molar and the other to a doorknob. I slam the door. He sees. He cries. I leave.
But, dear reader, I did not lose my tooth. I just couldn’t break his heart or my retainer. Not for a stupid assignment. I lost the only dentist I’ve ever seen. I must leave the state.
TEN DAYS LATER
He chases my Lyft on his moped (his license plate? TOOFDADDY) and completely stops traffic in the middle of that one bridge you take to get to the Medieval Times in the suburbs. Legend has it he caused the biggest pileup in Chicago bridge history. He confronts me about this very article that I am currently writing. He asks if it’s true, that I kept my molar. I smile and give him a full throated show. He brushes a tear out of his eye. I think I’m wearing a yellow dress or something. We do not kiss. On the way home I chomp down on a jawbreaker and my front tooth cracks in half.
And that dear reader, is how you lose a tooth in ten days.