Humor | Satire

You Used Your Child’s Bubblegum Toothpaste for One Week and Here’s What You Discovered

You need to go to CVS

1. Brushing your teeth with a known cavity-inducing flavor presents a cognitive dissonance as an adult that is hard to reconcile. You might as well be flossing with beef jerky or gargling with vodka.
2. You must have a bizarre relationship with spending: you think nothing of throwing down $7 for the latte you will glug in one sitting, but agonize over whether or not to spend $7 on a new Tom’s that will last a month.
3. You harbor a deep resentment for toothpaste manufacturers — all packagers of products in fact — who do not allow you to use every single solitary drop of the product you pay for. You notice the wealth of shampoos and conditioners and lotions precariously positioned upside-down in various strategic locales throughout the bathroom. You will get one more use out of that lotion, dammit. You make a mental note to reduce your packaging.
4. At the store, you investigate toothpastes, compare prices, debate if fluoride is good or bad for you. You decide life is too short to contemplate such nuances. Ultimately, you are too angered by shrink-flation to make a choice. You know your last tube was larger than this one for the same price. You leave the store without toothpaste.
5. Halfway through the week, you brush with enhanced vigor. You are bucking the system by using this unicorn-adorned confection, you think. You internally wink at Luna, the rainbow unicorn, on the bubblegum toothpaste. You will not buy new toothpaste. Perhaps you will never buy new toothpaste again. Maybe you can revert to chew sticks or burnt bread like your ancestors. You assess the trees outside for the viability of their bark.
6. A thought strikes you: Wait. Did you really get all the toothpaste out of that old tube of Tom’s? You check it. You have saved the empty tube and replaced it in the medicine cabinet in an eternal misguided optimism that it will replenish like some kind of magical refilling toiletry.
7. After contorting the tube against your sink in a variety of ways along with rolling and re-rolling the tube, you realise: You did. You did get it all out. You momentarily spell things in a British way. You wonder if it’s too late to live abroad. You put the tube back in the medicine cabinet even though it’s empty.
8. You feel like you’ve failed at something profound, like basic math or marriage.
9. You spend the next several days in a fog; perhaps you did make the switch to the UK after all. Maybe you should get a vision test; maybe you should get a dental appointment. You want to buck the system, but it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate amidst the cosmic fug of disappointment and commercialism. There are cartoon characters on the toothpaste tube, on the cereal boxes, on the wallpaper. It’s like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. The snozzberries taste like snozzberries; maybe Oompa Loompas will start criticizing your life choices in song. Luna the rainbow unicorn now offers you parenting advice.
10. By the end of the week, the bubble gum toothpaste malaise has set in. The sugary flavor has lulled you into a childlike state of wonder and a gleeful lack of responsibility. Perhaps anything actually is possible; perhaps you should make a fort — with multiple rooms, an atrium, a second floor. The couch looks sad. You are high on additives and hidden sugars; you are delirious with unicorn imagery and rainbow dyes. It’s not so bad, you think, vaguely wondering about the details of your dental coverage. Life is sweet, you think, like this sugary toothpaste, and the type 2 diabetes that’s coming your way. It’s so sweet, maybe you’ll brush twice. Luna Unicorn thinks it’s a great idea.

More by Kate Brennan:

Kate Brennan is an Artist — Educator — Creator committed to bringing more humor and humanity to the world. For opportunities check out Endless Opps. For books check out B3.

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