Required or not, I like sporting my face masks. I find it irresistible for the safety it offers susceptible individuals; for the anonymity it offers; for the floral scent of my moisturiser, which it retains in my nostrils even when the solar beats down on the town’s bins. And, as I realised this week, face masks are a fantastic alternative for some grownup orthodontics.
I’m getting braces. I’d been serious about it for years. However it wasn’t simply the cash or ache that stalled me: deep down, I didn’t need to. I didn’t need to straighten the crooked smile that felt so uniquely me. And ironing it out for no discernible well being cause felt at greatest useless, at worst conceding defeat to magnificence norms imposed by “The Man”.
Don’t get me flawed, I don’t assume beautifying is a weak point. Few issues make me really feel fairly like a queen as a blow-dry honouring the hair that’s my crown. It’s additionally not my enterprise what different individuals do. However it struck me that the final word aim for womanhood have to be separating “feeling good” from “feeling stunning”, in order that one isn’t depending on the opposite. And nothing feels fairly pretty much as good as sticking it to stated Man.
“Anyway,” I’d say, “if it’s ok for Brigitte Bardot, it’s ok for me.” The story goes that the younger Bardot was so self-conscious about her enamel that she would cowl her mouth along with her wrist like a cat, therefore the time period “intercourse kitten” (admittedly there are apparent variations between Brigitte and me: age, ethnicity, our opposing views on victims of sexual harassment).
The reality is that I used to be nearly pleased when the dentist gave me a well being cause to decide to braces, despite the fact that “much less jaw ache” positive sounded imprecise. A minimum of the umm-ing and ahh-ing was over. Though I anticipate my journey to a womanhood free from the tyranny of magnificence has solely simply begun.