Mood Teeth

My teeth are now a luminous yellowy green which apparently somehow reflects my mood as read by a chip implanted into my gums which somehow figures out how I am feeling by the flow of blood to my gums or something. Actually I am not sure how it works…read more

I look in the mirror and try and concentrate really hard. How am I feeling? Slightly panicked if I am honest. Maybe confused. Annoyed. Frustrated. There isn’t one word to cover it. I look at the app, I scroll through all the colours-there is no colour for slightly panicked. There is for frustrated, a sort of apricot. Apricot? Why-who gets this? There is annoyed but there is no combination of the two- no frustrated and annoyed. I look at my teeth. They appear in the mirror as a sort of lemony green glowing mess–well monstrosity.

I thought ‘mood teeth’ would be fun. At least I did at some point. I think I’d had-Ok I definitely had too much to drink. I remember my mother’s tattoo. She got it on a similar holiday when she was young. She hated it. It was a mermaid with large –well larger than life upper body parts. Cartoonishly big. She had no idea what possessed her one drunken evening to get a ‘mermaid with oversized boobs’ tattoo. She regretted it always. She wore a very covered up wedding dress so no one would see it. She had it removed eventually.

No tattoo for me, I’ve got mood teeth. It’s hard to explain if you haven’t seen them. It’s an implant in your gum-at least I think it’s in my gum and it somehow changes the colour of my teeth according to my mood. It’s a fabulous idea and when it’s done properly it’s wonderful. It’s very popular with celebrities. I tell myself these things over and over as if somehow at some point that will make me feel better.  I have not had the best version of mood teeth. I am not even sure how much I paid. Or how I paid. I guess it will appear on my bank statement soon and I can be even more horrified than I am now.  

My teeth are now a luminous yellowy green which apparently somehow reflects my mood as read by a chip implanted into my gums which somehow figures out how I am feeling by the flow of blood to my gums or something. Actually I am not sure how it works. The brochure I have is in Spanish and I am too scared to download the English version. I should just buy a Spanish speaking chip and implant it behind my ear then I could read Spanish. But I think this might be the last of my chip implant experiments. I might leave it to the younger generation. That is exactly what my mother is going to say. You’re nearly thirty and you’re getting chip implants like a 15 year old. She has a point.  No more chips for me. Next time I will just go for good old fashioned teeth colour, its like nail polish only for teeth-isn’t that the tag line.

When I run my tongue along the top of my gums I can feel the implant. I am sure that is not right. I am going to have to go to the dentist to have it removed. She is going to laugh. It is going to cost a fortune. Meanwhile my teeth sit there –luminescent, while I am too embarrassed to leave the house. I did go to work Friday but it was a disaster. They were a sort of purple brown to start with but it got worse. On Friday, mid-meeting as I was presenting they cycled through the entire colour scheme. I could see the audience just sitting there watching my teeth. No one wanted to say anything. People were embarrassed for me. I was embarrassed for me. There are about 40 colours. In the end I just stopped speaking and sat down.  

After 20 minutes it stopped but I had to let someone else take over. What was I thinking? I am kind of hoping the chip will run out of power soon and I can have it removed. I am too worried to even search how long it will take. I am seeing my mother today and I know she will want me to go to the dentist right away. Improperly licensed mood teeth can cause serious damage to your teeth and your gums. I think there’s an ad just above the subway-government sponsored.

I just don’t know what to say to her. She is going to know as soon as she sees me. I try to think happy thoughts and my teeth turn orange and then sort of a dull purple colour again. This is not how it looks on screen.

I leave the house, determined not to smile at anyone. I am walking to the cafe. The woman who always walks her dog on a Sunday morning passes me. We always smile even though we don’t know each other. I nod at her today as if I am absorbed in something else. She smiles. I feel bad. Then as I cross the road, the driverless car stops for me and I notice the passenger. He is quite cute. I want to smile. I must not smile. He smiles. I look at the road and keep walking. An opportunity missed. It is 20 minutes of walking where I simply focus on showing no one my teeth.

My teeth on the other hand seem to tingle as if they are enjoying this. Humiliation. I look at the app, what is the colour of humiliation. I am not sure the colours I have are standard. They might be standard for Europe and not for the UK. Do they have different standards for mood teeth in Europe. I think they do. The names of the emotions on the app have all reverted to Spanish-that can’t be good. Can it? I vow to look up just how serious the complications can be.

I arrive at the café. I meet my Mum here every Sunday. We really should go virtual. I nod at the waitress as I go in. She smiles. I don’t. I feel bad. She looks at me oddly. I always smile. I want to say, I can’t I have ‘mood teeth’ and its not like the TV. They are malfunctioning. I couldn’t even post any social media photos of me after I got these. No one saw the end of my holiday. I have a long list of people messaging to find out if I’m ok. I haven’t known what to say. I have lost some followers I think, just through my silence. They went bad from day one. I am not even sure where I got them. I was too drunk.

I see my mother come in. She smiles. I don’t. She frowns. I try not to notice. She takes off her jacket and slips into the chair across from me. The waitress comes over. She is fast because we always order the same thing.

I mumble ‘the usual’ trying to make sure she doesn’t see my teeth.

My Mum looks really worried now.

She reaches across and takes my hand. Then I smile. It’s just a reaction, subconscious, quickly. I shut my mouth again. I see her eyebrows react to my teeth. I have no idea what colour they are now. She is staring. Just staring with heightened eyebrows, then she bites her lips and then she laughs. I mean she just laughs out loud. The whole café turns to watch as she screeches, ‘what have you done’ at me.

I sink into the chair and steel myself. I must not open my mouth until she is quiet and no one is looking. The waitress brings my carrot cake, and latte and I can see that she has seen my teeth. She is also trying not to laugh. I am like a bad social media story.

My mother collects herself. I want to remind her about the mermaid with the big boobs but I don’t.

‘I don’t think its permanent.’ I say. ‘It will stop working soon.’ I mumble more than say, trying to keep my mouth shut.

She nods and smirks. This is not the support I was looking for.

They’re not that bad’ stumbles out of her mouth as the frown returns. I know she doesn’t mean it.

‘What colour are they at the moment?’ I ask

‘A sort of reddy blue?’

‘You mean green?’

‘No I mean some of them are red and some are blue and some are red and blue and some are something else? It’s an interesting look.’

‘It’s a disaster’

‘A temporary one, perhaps a week at home.’

I look at my coffee. She is still trying not to laugh. It is worse than I thought. I have no idea what to do. I can’t go to work like this. I can’t hack it out of my gum myself, if I do that I might end up with permanent colouration.

It is a short cup of coffee. I go home and hide in my room. Tomorrow I will go to the dentist.

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