2018 in smiles

When I was twenty, whatever, it doesn't matter how old I was - I woke up with a crooked smile. I pressed my fingers to my lips in bed, having rolled over to check my alarm clock. I thought, oh my god. I don't have a smile.

When I was officially out of bed, I looked in the mirror. And I saw that the left hand side of my lip drooped downwards. I pressed my fingers against my lip again and again - I must surely be exaggerating. But it was there. I was deformed.

When I went to my psychiatrist that day for a routine appointment, he told me I was only speaking out of one side of my mouth. It's a virus that causes that, he said. Here. Take some pills. Shocking, but I needed to have my whole mouth functioning.

When I went to a doctor to see what was wrong, a family doctor, he told me some things I already knew. I recited WebMD from memory. Wow, the doctor said. Did you know you're really intelligent?

When I started taking the steriods the family doctor prescribed me, I went to a concert in the park downtown, with my father. I thought my life was over. My face was deformed. My dad said, you're doing something with your mouth. No, I wasn't. I was just smiling. But half of it drooped to one side. Oh, my god, I thought. WebMD said I have one year to recover from this. Will I ever recover?

When Covid-19 hit, and this is two years later, I still hadn't recovered my full smile. Sure, it exists. But it's lopsided.

When I wear a mask, it covers my smile. For this I am grateful.

When I wear a mask, I think strangers might be looking at me for more than my face.