Porcelain veneers,
shaped by hand.

“I had spent a decade with my hand half-up when I laughed. The strange thing is not the photos — it's that I stopped doing the hand thing on day four and didn't notice until my sister pointed it out at dinner. Elena warned me the adjustment would be psychological more than physical. She was right about that and right about the length of the centrals, which I had argued with her about.”

“I went in convinced I needed ten and walked out with four. That conversation alone was worth the consult fee. What I have now is the smile from a photograph of myself at twenty-six, which was the photograph I kept showing her. It does not look done. My colorist noticed before my husband did, which feels correct.”

“I had been on enough pitch calls to know when my mouth was the thing people were looking at. I wanted that to stop being a variable. The wax-up stage is what sold me — I was looking at the result before anyone had touched a tooth. I came in skeptical of the price. I left understanding it. The math is in the room you cannot see.”

“I am a person who needs to see a drawing. The wax-up was the drawing. The try-in was the model. The seat was the building. I have never been treated as a peer by a medical professional the way Elena treated me — she handed me a loupe and said, tell me what you want changed. I changed three things. They were the right three.”

“My fear was sensitivity. I taste for a living. I asked Elena the cold question maybe nine different ways and she answered the same way every time, which is what I needed. There has been no cold sensitivity. There has been no pain at the bite. The only thing that changed is the photograph on the press page.”

“My face is part of my work. I was terrified of looking like someone else from the second row. Elena did the smallest amount of work that solved the problem. The director did not notice. My mother did not notice. My partner noticed on day eleven and said only that I looked rested. That is the review I wanted to write.”