It wasn't your bulging biceps that first caught my eye

Everyone has that one thing they notice about someone when they first meet them.  It is an involuntary and subconscious knee jerk evaluation about their physical attributes. You may focus directly on their eyes and how staring into them you see the reflection of your own soul or some touchy feely crap like that. Some take a more shallow approach and check out the ass or pectoral regions.

I wonder if what we first notice about others is a projection of our own insecurities of what we wish we had better of. I am one that tends to fixate on teeth – with a quiet mania for the straight, white, delectably even, non-gummy variety. 

Interestingly enough though, closer examination of my ex-husbands’ chops and you’d quickly question the validity of my previous admission to a fascination with all things blissfully aligned. I guess a good set of pecs and a tight ass can make up for a lot of shortcomings after all – at least for a little while. 

Anyway – you can imagine my revulsion when I discovered that my new jitter juice addiction was having adverse affects on my pristine smile. I have always held onto a massive insecurity that my fang like teeth are crooked with a mellow yellow sheen to them. I long for a straight, even, immaculate smile. You know, the artificial ones actors pay thousands of dollars to transplant into their mouths. I’m not big on the whole medical intervention for vanity sake, so I do my best to curtail my compulsive preoccupation with my own teeth. I use a special whitening toothpaste everyday and I have even been known to take a nail file to those fangs in a vain attempt to shave them down a bit if I’m feeling too vampire like. 

But to know that I am aiding and abetting my own tooth demise by consuming so much of this black liquid is making me a whole new kind of crazy. The elation I feel after the mild caffeine high coupled with the newly discovered bonus of the suppression of appetite has me torn. The ever-growing java stained reflection mocks me as I stare into the glass with a frightening madness. But how do I choose between a newfound love and a life long obsession for a brighter, whiter grin?

With shame in my heart and a mind too weak to say no, I continue to drink the object of my desire. I do my best to minimize the adverse consequences of my shameful craving by wearing hydrogen peroxide filled teeth whitening molds a few times a week. But this is only so I can continue to feed my never-ending yearning for that next cup of Joe.