The Fine Line Between Attention and Annoyance: A Dental Dilemma

How Cosmetic Dentistry Ruined My Life

Eliza Johnston had always been content with her slightly crooked smile, seeing it as a charming quirk in an otherwise plain existence. She worked as an editor at a medical publishing house, a job that valued her sharp mind more than her physical appearance. Her life was a blend of manuscripts, peer review protocols, and the occasional, entirely welcome, Friday night solitude with a book. However, pressure from her well-meaning but incessantly superficial mother led her to consider cosmetic dentistry, specifically porcelain veneers—a solution lauded for its ability to transform dental aesthetics radically.

Driven by a blend of curiosity and the weariness of being constantly badgered, Eliza consulted Dr. Feldman, a dentist renowned for his expertise in advanced restorative procedures and his lectures on the biomechanical considerations of laminate veneers. Dr. Feldman recommended a full set of veneers to correct what he described with a charming lilt as her "endearingly misaligned maxillary anterior segment." He expounded on the conservative preparation technique he would employ, ensuring minimal enamel removal and optimal adhesion through a new generation bonding agent that activated under a specific wavelength of light, a detail that fascinated Eliza to no end.

Two weeks and several thousand dollars later, Eliza’s teeth were transformed from endearingly crooked to movie-star perfect. She left Dr. Feldman’s office with a shiny, flawless smile, feeling like she could chew through solid titanium—or at least tough steak with grace.

Almost immediately, Eliza found herself the unwitting center of attention. Her once quiet presence in meetings now sparked unsolicited compliments and lingering glances. Male colleagues who had previously nodded at her in passing were now vying for her attention, sending flirty emails and leaving coffee on her desk every morning. Even her daily commute changed; what used to be a mundane drive filled with podcasts about dental innovations and periodontal pathology turned into an impromptu modeling show as pedestrians and fellow drivers did double-takes.

The pinnacle of this unwanted attention came when a misguided admirer from the graphic design department serenaded her in the office cafeteria, a spectacle that ended with applause from some and sympathetic grimaces from others. Her work, once her refuge, became a minefield of awkward interactions and thwarted productivity.

As the weeks turned into months, Eliza’s initial flattery soured into frustration. She approached Dr. Feldman with a desperate plea to reverse the procedure, to bring back her old, less conspicuous teeth. But dentistry, much like life, doesn't always allow for undos. Instead, Dr. Feldman suggested a less conventional solution: Dental microchips—tiny, cutting-edge devices that could be embedded into her veneers to emit a subtle, unpleasant odor when unwanted suitors lingered too close. They’d been developed as an experimental deterrent for dental office theft, emitting a stench akin to decay whenever unauthorized personnel tampered with high-value dental equipment.

Reluctantly, Eliza agreed. The following week, her veneers were modified, and she returned to her life with a peculiar new defense. As predicted, her pheromone-like repellent was effective—too effective. Colleagues began to keep their distance, the flirty emails stopped, and the coffee deliveries ceased. Even the serenading graphic designer transferred to another floor.

But the isolation Eliza once cherished now felt stifling, a cruel echo of her former anonymity. As she navigated her newly regained obscurity, she couldn’t help but wonder if the real transformation hadn’t been in her smile, but in her understanding of attention—both unwanted and desired.

At the year's biggest dental conference, as she discussed the biochemical pathways of saliva, a well-known orthodontist approached her, not with compliments for her appearance, but with genuine interest in her research on enamel protein regulation. Perhaps, Eliza mused as they debated the merits of various fluoride treatments, life had a way of balancing out, after all.