Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
you loved clean, straight teeth. you always did.
made sure i never missed a dentist's appointment, and made sure we never ran out of toothpaste and toothbrushes in the house.
"minho, having good teeth is attractive," you always told me as you stroked my hair at night. instead of telling me bedtime stories of fairytales you told me sad stories and what would happen to people who didn't take care of their teeth.
"no one will love you if you have bad teeth. that's why you should take care of your teeth," you said. "if your teeth are horrible, people will stay away from you, and you'll have no friends. don't you want to make friends?"
of course i wanted to make friends. as a kid, that was what was most important to me. i didn't want people to stay away from me. so i nodded along, because i didn't want to make you angry.
you were always scary when you were angry.
the thing was, you didn't have the best teeth. they were crooked, darkened with years of cigarette use.
you always told me you didn't want my teeth to turn out like yours, because that would've been your greatest failure. i didn't want to disappoint you too.
i started to take pride in my teeth because they were straight and white and didn't have a single blemish.
i began to notice other people's teeth as well. the ones with nice teeth i proceeded to envy, because i wanted them.
i wanted to have the best teeth.
i was already fascinated with them.
but then, you fell ill and told me that your biggest wish was for me to keep on having lovely teeth, because it would make you proud.
i wanted to make you proud.
and now, as i stared upon your open casket, your face blank and void of troubles, i decided that i would make a promise to you.
i would have the perfect teeth, so that you would remain proud of me, mother.
