Who is robbing their daughter? My stepmother did. She took $5,000 for veneers out of my education fund. for the ideal Hollywood grin. However, she felt more regret than glam once karma struck more quickly than a dental drill.
Although it’s said that money cannot buy happiness, my stepmother certainly believed that it could buy her a million-dollar smile. The worst part? To implant her veneers, she took money from my education fund, which my late mother had established, and pretended it didn’t matter. Don’t worry, though! Take a seat back, unwind, and allow me to share with you the story of the day that karma grew back and bit back.
My name is Kristen, and I am a typical 17-year-old with aspirations that surpass my stepmother’s ego. My mother left a college money when she died when I was a little child. Although it wasn’t much, it was a first step in securing my future.
Since then, my dad, Bob, and I have been expanding it, primarily through my part-time work educating children who believe “Pi” is a food that goes well with ice cream. There was also some babysitting, which paid me once a week.
Before Tracy, my stepmother and the living embodiment of a selfie stick, appeared, everything was going smoothly.
Compared to a mime acting as though she is confined in a box, this woman spends more time in front of the mirror. I promise that Tracy would make Narcissus look like a novice if vanity were an Olympic sport.
She is completely preoccupied with appearances. Her nails, hair, and attire must always be flawless. She seems to be attempting to emulate a real-life Barbie. (I apologize, Barbie.)
She never has time for things that truly matter, like, oh, I don’t know, being a decent human, despite spending hours in front of the mirror. She seems to have a mirror implanted in her brain.
When I returned home one fateful day, Tracy was beaming like she had won the lottery.
“Kristen, darling!” Her voice was sweeter as a hummingbird’s food as she chirped. “Guess what your amazing stepmom is going to do?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Finally learn how to use the washing machine without flooding the laundry room?”
After a little pause, Tracy’s smile came back with gusto. “No, you fool! I am going to get veneers! Isn’t that amazing?”
“Uh, congrats?” “Why should this be a full-fledged announcement?” I mumbled.
She exclaimed, “Oh, don’t look so glum!” “We should celebrate this! What’s the best part? I managed to get it off without going over budget.”
At that moment, my stomach fell more quickly than a skydiver with a malfunctioning parachute. “What do you mean?”
Tracy grinned like a Cheshire cat, but her teeth resembled a set of mustard-dipped construction cones.
“All right, I took out a small loan from your education money.” “Just $5,000!”
I felt as though the Tooth Fairy on steroids had just sucker-punched me as I stood there, jaw wide open. “What did you do? You stole my money for college?”
Tracy gave a dramatic eye roll. “Purloin? I’m related.” “Honey, it’s not a huge deal.”
“You had no right! I will use that money for my future. My mother arranged it for me.”
“Save the show, please! It’s only financial. And that was approved by your father,” Tracy winked.
Now, that falsehood was more significant than the future cost of her dental care. In a million years, Dad would not consent to this. He is more inclined to voluntarily watch Tracy’s favorite reality TV series in its entirety.
I slammed my bedroom door so forcefully that it shook the house as I rushed out. I called Dad right away, and he was as surprised as I was.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. That meant “I’ll mention it once and hope it magically resolves itself,” as Dad put it.
Tracy had her veneers a few weeks later. She showed off her new teeth whenever she could as she walked around the house like she was America’s Next Top Model. Living with a deranged lighthouse was like that.
“Oh, Kristen,” she crooned one night, “remember to be happy during your brief tutoring session. However,” she said, pausing to examine me, “maybe you should hold your tongue. You wouldn’t want your unsightly alligator fangs to frighten those kids away.”
I feared I could require veneers myself because I bit my tongue so hard. “Right,” I said quietly. “Because blowing five grand on fake choppers is totally normal, yeah?”
Tracy squinted her eyes. “Missy, pay attention. Keep in mind who provides your shelter.”
I slammed the door behind me and shot back, “I’m pretty sure that’s still Dad.”
A month following her “transformation,” Tracy made the decision to host a barbecue to introduce the neighborhood to her new choppers. It was similar to slow-motion train wrecks, except with more potato salad.
“Ladies, gather ’round!” On that fateful day, Tracy made the announcement while using a spoon to clink her wine glass. “I simply must tell you about my transformation!”
Yes, more akin to a sci-fi transformation from yellow-stained vampire fangs to a smile straight out of Hollywood! I rolled my eyes so hard that my brain was almost visible.
Tracy exclaimed, “It’s all thanks to the marvelous Dr. Kapoor,” “He is an artist in addition to being a dentist! A sculptor of smiles!” “A whisperer of teeth!”
“Did he whisper to your wallet too?” I whispered to myself.
Ignoring my sarcasm, Tracy went on. “And of course, some smart investments made it all possible!”
My lemonade nearly choked me. Astute financial decisions? Is that what we now refer to as theft?
At that moment, Tracy reached for a bit of corn on the cob and put down her wine glass. “You know, ladies, life is all about taking chances and—”
C-R-A-C-K!
Like a gunshot, the sound reverberated across the backyard. Tracy’s eyes widened, and she quickly put her hand to her lips, saying “dental disaster.”
“Tracy, my goodness! Are you alright?” Her friend let out a gasp.
Tracy, however, was everything but. What was left of her rotting tooth and one of her treasured veneers were nestled in the butter of her corn on the cob. Her smile gaped so wide that an entire lollipop could fit inside!
“I… I…” Tracy stutteringly sounded like she was trying out for the Sylvester the Cat part. “Ekthcuthe me!”
She ran into the house, leaving a yard full of confused guests and one very happy stepdaughter who was doing her best not to giggle uncontrollably.
I had no idea how lovely the aftermath would be. Tracy turned into a reclusive dentist who wouldn’t leave the house. I heard a conversation that was like music to my ears and nails on a chalkboard to hers when she eventually called Dr. Kapoor.
“What do you mean it’ll cost more to finish?” Tracy let out a cry into the telephone. “With your own fault! You claimed they were of the highest caliber.”
As it happened, Tracy had chosen the cheap veneers from the basement. The icing on the cake? To redo the entire veneer, she would need to spend a lot of money! Tracy had just had a dental spanking from Karma, who is, as they say, a witch with a capital B.
That night, Dad, who had finally grown up (I looked outside for flying pigs), went up to Tracy.
His voice was forceful as he stated, “We need to talk about Kristen’s college fund,” for the first time in a very long time! Bravo, Daddy!
Tracy attempted to deflect, her shattered smile still concealed under her palm. “It’s not the time, Bob, honey. I’m in a crisis, can’t you see that?”
Dad refused to back down. “Emergency? You? Tracy, no. This is over. Every penny you took out of Kristen’s fund will be reimbursed. And if you are unable to… well, I believe we should reconsider the entire matter.”
Tracy seemed truly afraid for the first time since I’d met her. It was similar to staring at a deer in headlights—that is, if the deer had a speech impairment and terrible dental work!
Tracy turned into a recluse in the weeks that followed, making even the most reclusive monk appear like a party animal.
Regarding her “dental disaster,” the neighborhood was ablaze with rumors, and she was unable to reveal her face without someone inquiring about her “million-dollar thmile.”
What about me? Well, Dad delivered on his pledge. Tracy has been curiously silent about her spending patterns, and he has been putting in extra effort to rebuild my education fund.
When you sound like you’re attempting to whistle through a mouthful of marbles, I suppose it’s difficult to dispute.
I saw her looking longingly at a dental implant magazine ad the other day. The chance for a little payback was too good to pass up.
I yelled out, “Hey, Tracy,” and gave her my “alligator-tooth” smile, which is perfectly imperfect. “Need your investment advice?”
I swear I saw Dad trying to suppress a chuckle, but she frowned and stomped away.
In other words, my stepmother used $5,000 from my education fund to buy a set of false teeth that gave the impression that she was trying out for the Big Bad Wolf role with a speech impairment. However, in the end? She had something to think about because of Karma.
And me? I discovered that sometimes the things you can purchase aren’t the most valuable in life. They are the lessons you pick up along the journey and the joy that comes from seeing justice done, one shattered façade at a time.
In addition, I have enough material now to write the best-selling memoir, From Fangs to Fortune: How My Stepmother’s Dental Mishap Saved My College Investment. What’s up?
Who knows? It might even be dedicated to Tracy. After all, I wouldn’t have this juicy story to share if it weren’t for her.
