“You have the whitest teeth,” some random older woman said to me at a dinner party in the ‘80s. Then her whole family from out of town chimed in, “We are obsessed with your teeth!” It was an unusual compliment. And, with a minor amount of self-deprecation, I proudly accepted.

I was in Paris on a trip with my best friend, Kimberly, and my one-year-old child, Oliver. We were staying in small quarters in an inexpensive pensione. “I have to tell you your breath is very bad,” Kimberly said to me in our little room. “I’ve wanted to tell you for days, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Turns out, I had a leaky crown, which sends out a foul odor. One that I couldn’t, or didn’t, detect.

Before this, every boy I’d kissed in life had commented on what great breath I had. But now I could never be sure of that again. Thus, a lifelong obsession with teeth-cleaning was born. From then on, I would have them cleaned four times a year.

A few months ago, I tried a new hygienist who said, “You have the mouth and teeth of someone in her twenties.” Best line ever. She had no idea the absurd amount of pride I take in my oral hygiene. Many friends my age have lost teeth and have gone to great lengths to acquire new ones. I grind mine so much, day and at night, that it’s surprising I haven’t broken or lost any.

When I was in my twenties, a bad dentist, that a friend worked for, botched the surgery to remove my wisdom teeth. Ironically, I gained a lot of wisdom from the experience. I suffered in pain from an infection for months. When I complained to a friend, she told me to come over and try some of her heroin. That’s right, heroin. She explained it was originally a pain killer. And I was so dizzy from pain, I went along with it. Well, right after the first snort, I vomited and couldn’t stop. On the plus side, I was so sick, I forgot about the pain. My kids think it’s funny that I don’t drink or do drugs, but I did heroin. Once. For medicinal purposes.

I was born without teeth, as we all were. Then I grew cute little baby ones. So far, so good. Then the baby teeth fell out and I scored cash under my pillow. Even better! Then the adult teeth grew in and overpowered my tiny little head. By the time I was a teenager, I had huge buck teeth. My parents said they couldn’t afford to get me braces. But they eventually paid for a retainer to push back on the teeth that were creeping over my bottom lip.

I was so hyperaware of the “buckness” of my big-ass teeth that I developed a habit of clicking my thumb against the one front tooth that crossed over the other one. I thought I could push it back in line. Ha. It was years before I learned that some men actually love overbites. I was on the set of a show called SWAT and an actor walked up to me, moved in real close, and said, “I find women with overbites sexy.” I later realized that the subtext was such women give great head. A bonus for the men in my life – thanks to parents who couldn’t afford an orthodontist.

I ramped up my teeth-cleaning and was going every two months. My dentist stepped in and, like in an intervention, made me curtail my addiction to four visits a year. She told me I could ruin the enamel. I suffered withdrawal.

There is no way my dad went and got his teeth cleaned quarterly, yet he boasted never having one cavity in his life. He lived until 86 with all of his real teeth. When I was a child and got cavities, my mother blamed my father for providing us with Coca-Cola, delivered weekly, by the case. I did develop a sixpack-a-day habit.

My cat, Axel, who I loved way too much, died from seizures he developed at age 15 from gum disease. Bacteria spread to his brain and other organs caused by not having his teeth cleaned. So, now, with my two cats, I have a dental hygienist come to the house to clean their teeth without anesthesia.

I shot one toothpaste commercial when I was younger. I shot it twice, in fact. I always wore my old retainer the night before a shoot — convincing myself that it would push my teeth back into place. The ad agency didn’t like the first cast and recast it, but kept me. Henry Winkler, just prior to his fame, played my boyfriend. The product never launched but I remember my big line: “Patent Number 3703578. That’s the Patent Number for a completely new kind of toothpaste!” Catchy. You think maybe the product name contributed to its quick death? All day, the ad people told me what a winning smile I had. Little did they know, I would spend a lifetime obsessing about it.

Recipe that you didn’t ask for: Backstory is that during the past few years of this pandemic — I make it at least once a week and eat a piece daily.

Corn Bread: 1 cup flour, 1 cup medium coarse corn meal, 2/3 cup sugar, 3 1/2 teaspoons baking powder, touch of salt, 1 cup milk 1/3 cup vegetable oil, 1 egg. Hand mix and I pour into a cast iron skillet at 400 degrees for 25 minutes or browned on top. Before I bake it, I sprinkle turbinado sugar all over the top.

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Tags: buck teeth, dentistry, fredde duke, Teeth

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