30 Days – Day 2 – “Love”

Day Two – Something you love about yourself.

This one’s a bit harder. Does anyone wander around with something that they truly love about themselves? I don’t think anyone does. They’re more than aware of their weakness and can tell you a couple of strengths if push comes to shove, but something they love? Nobody other than the most egotistical of people can do it, by dint of the fact that we live with it every day to the point it’s invisible if nothing else. But that’s a bit useless for the purposes of this, so I’ll start with one thing and see if I can’t maybe tease out a couple of other things that make me as awesome as I am.

Teeth! Fuck yeah, teeth. I’ve got good ones. When I was a youngster I drank my milk like a good boy, didn’t wolf down a load of sugary sweets or drinks, and was fortunate enough not to have them shattered in some childhood accident. They’ve grown in straight and white, and I guess I’m fortunate in that I don’t have to hide my smile like some people. Your chompers make or break how you look when happy. I’ve seen girls that look great when they’re pouting turn into hyenas when they’re smiling, and guys that look halfway intelligent with a straight face transform into the gurning village idiot when something funny happens. Never needed braces either, but I put part of that down to me wearing a gumshield at rugby for a few hours most days while my adult teeth were growing in.

I suppose I’ve always seen them as my best feature, and as a result it’s what I worry about most. I wouldn’t go as far as to call it a fear, but getting my teeth smashed in is pretty much my kryptonite. I don’t think of it all the time, not even when I was playing rugby, but if I take a good hit in the mouth it’s always the first thing I worry about before anything else. When I was fourteen I got sucker-punched by a guy wearing a couple of sovereign rings on each hand, who to this day is the only person that’s ever knocked me down. By the time I stood back up he’d already run away but not before doing a fair bit of damage. I stood there with my bottom lip basically torn in half, feeling it swell up and seeing it jiggle out of the corner of my eye whenever I talked yet the first thing I thought of was whether or not my teeth were still in my mouth. Thankfully they were, and none of them were loose. I guess it’s the permanence of any damage that worries me the most. With the likes of my lip I knew that it’d heal (and I had an excellent doctor doing the stitching, so that now you wouldn’t know it’d happened unless I pointed it out.) but if you lose a tooth, it’s gone.

There’s the usual shit like not stabbing grannies, helping people who need it, loyalty to friends, but that’s all pish. My teeth, now those are the dog’s bollocks.