My South Asian mother always praised me for saving her money. I never had any issues with my teeth compared to my siblings, each with braces and retainers galore. With that also comes the costs of adjustments and constant check ups— costs that my mom never had to bear on my behalf. Mama was constantly proud of this fact until it was no longer a fact.
HOMECOMING: A CROWNING ACHIEVEMENT
On a day I opted to skip school, friends and classmates opted to write my name in for homecoming court. Sitting in front of a plate of chocolate chip pancakes at IHOP, I frantically texted my friend who was updating me. I urge her not to nominate me. Too late. Some kind of consensus had been made without my presence or permission by friends and friends of friends. Next thing I know my name is in the running for homecoming queen.
We didn’t know the homecoming football game, the Friday night before homecoming when you find out who won during announcements at halftime, was something you invited your parents to. Why would we do that? We didn’t think (or perhaps realize) it was a big deal. We were absolutely clueless about this kind of thing. Somehow yet, despite everything, despite taking it the least seriously out of everyone else, James and I win. I can’t ever forget my never present principal trying to snuggly fit the dollar store tiara on my head. My best friend and I left immediately to go somewhere a little more significant at the time: Chipotle.
Nails done, hair done, everything did. Tiara? Adjusted. Pictures? Taken. Pregaming with a turkey baster on a warm October night, we were all excited to get into our last homecoming. Except for the sash, tiara, and a slow dance the homecoming king and I were in the spotlight for in our sweaty high school gymnasium, the night of the dance was just like any other Saturday. Cotton-Eyed Joe played as the lights came on and I was the last one dancing because the DJ promised to play my favorite song (Lifestyle by Young Thug) afterwards. It was a great time.
THE AFTER PARTY: AROUND 2:30
Everything’s going great. I’m on the couch, (play) fighting over my phone with my date’s best friend, a lacrosse player named Henry. Henry gets a dirty look from my date for being too touchy. With those lax bro skills of his, he lets go of my phone and the momentum launches the phone, crashing against my open mouth. Goal. I immediately run to the bathroom, staring in the mirror over the sink, I creak open my mouth and see half of my front tooth sitting on top of my tongue. one of the incredibly helpful moms tells me to bag the tooth in milk to preserve it until Monday (when I can finally go to my dentist and get it reattached).
This was the first time my parents had ever gone out of town. What great timing. I pick up my drunk sister and she immediately starts making fun of my new lisp. Even my best friend starts calling me Toothless. My sister takes my brother and I out to dinner the next day. The spice of the food sends a sharp pain up my tooth and burns my mouth in a way I had never felt before. This is the point I realize my nerve is exposed— that’s how much of my front tooth had broken off thanks to my durable phone case (an Otterbox). I tell my mom when she returns and she says the evil eye was cast upon me.
BEWARE OF THE EVIL EYE
Growing up in a traditional, foreign family, you learn of different superstitions and symbols. One of these superstitions is called nazar or the evil eye. Think of the evil eye as a curse. Someone wishes something negative upon you, maybe out of jealousy, that’s nazar. My Mom swore I had the evil eye on me as a little kid. When I was a child, a doctor told me I was beautiful and on that same night, I got an ear infection. That’s nazar (according to my parents). Fast forward to winning a crowned position other people wanted then my front tooth breaks the same night. Coincidence? No. Evil eye. Nazar. Karma. Bad juju, whatever you want to call it. Months later, at prom, I was told I looked really nice (and I looked reaaaaally nice). My phone was stolen later that same night. Evil eye, right? No other explanation exists. At least, not to my parents. Bad luck? Out of the question.
So my dentist reattaches my tooth. He says it could break off at any point, but it’s stable for now. We’re already leaving for Pakistan in December for a short vacation so, in order to save money, my mom has the brilliant idea of getting a crown done there. Little did I know the horrors that would ensue.
PAKISTAN’S CROWNED JEWEL
My literature teacher took pity on me for going to a third world country and excused me from any homework assignments. He assumed I wouldn’t have Wi-Fi. Instead of correcting his ignorance, I took advantage of it. The first time I could really use someone’s lack of worldly knowledge to my advantage. “Yeah, I won’t be able to do any of this work. The nearest internet cafe is fifty miles away.” Meanwhile, each floor of our house over in Pakistan has its own Wi-Fi.
The night we flew into Pakistan, we saw a dentist that was located in the sketchiest alleyway I had ever seen. I started crying but my mom insisted it would be okay. In a foreign country that slightly terrifies you, you have no choice but to trust your mom who grew up there. What I thought was improbable, this dentist did: he ruins my tooth further. He chips away and shaves down my already damaged tooth and makes a crown that detaches over and over again for the remainder of the trip. We commemorate the end of this vacation by going to another dentist that my cousin who practices in the UK worked with. Where was this oh so trustworthy guy when we first got here? He ends up fixing it well enough for me to stop being angry at my mom for taking me to that first dentist.
BROKEN CROWN, BROKEN EGO
My freshman year of college was abysmal. What made it worse was one slice of pizza I bit into in April and thought “Is there sausage on here?” only to open my mouth and realize the hard substance was the crown that had ejected itself. Any time I ate from then on, the crown would just break off again. I was the only one I knew my age who carried denture cream everywhere. It was green glue that helped me reattach my crown.
One day was particularly embarrassing. I had a dance performance and my crown had fallen down the drain. My crush came over in a rush to help little ol’ toothless me. He brought tools to get my tooth out of the pipes. I disinfected that mf and ran to my last dance showcase of the year. If my mom was there, she would’ve blamed it on the evil eye once again because I looked like a whole ass desi bride for that performance.
I got a new crown done shortly afterwards and the dentist told me it wouldn’t budge for a decade. Kinda funny this started with a crown and ended with a crown. Three years in and I am finally biting into things with both of my front teeth, instead of only using one side. Apples, burgers, you name it. You have no idea how much of a victory that is to me. It used to scare me knowing my crown had an end date but now (at least with dental insurance), I’m not terrified of it breaking anymore. I know it’ll happen one day and all I can do is act then.
When bad things happen to you it’s surprisingly helpful to refrain from thinking that the whole world is out to get you. It can become dangerous, turning into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Something I had to learn was that the universe is not plotting against you, despite what you (or your parents) may believe. But does that mean I’m not superstitious? Absolutely not. In fact, I’m just a little stitious.
