I stood in the bathroom, my face blinking back at me in the greenish mirror. I look disgusting in white light, that’s for sure. The toothbrush was too high up and the toothpaste required too much effort to squeeze anything out.
Maybe I shouldn’t brush my teeth. I thought to myself. One night doesn’t matter, does it?
Gross, I KNOW. But I was feeling lazy.
But then my mind went to the inevitable scenario when I did get into bed.
D: Did you brush your teeth?
D: Why not.
Me: I am tired.
D: Go brush your teeth.
Me: I don’t want to, I’ll have to put my clothes on.
D: *moody silence*
Me: *ugh* *Gets up to brush teeth*
To be honest, I would have got away with it if it were any other day. But he is moody with me. Disguising it with a few jokes and a fake smile here and there. But he is unhappy with me. And frankly I have no idea why. Maybe I am too fat. Maybe I am too unsuccessful now that I don’t have a job. Maybe I don’t look good because I haven’t bothered to try lately. Maybe I said something mean about his family. Maybe I annoyed him. I DON’T KNOW.
But I won’t add fuel to the fire by not brushing my teeth before I go to bed.
So. I sigh. I scrub at my teeth and rinse and spit, and scrub again. And rinse and scrub and rinse and – for three minutes because my dentist said so. Then I grin at myself from different angles to see if I would get that classic *TING* only the pearliest of pearls can give you.
I brushed my teeth to make my husband happy. I wouldn’t have brushed them if he wasn’t around. I did it, for my husband.
What does that make me? Annoyed, that’s what. But you gotta do what you gotta do.
ALSO. Brushing my teeth is good. So, I did myself a favour there. Hahaha. What am I even complaining about?