Imako teeth

Let’s talk about the HISTORY OF IMAKO TEETH. 😂

Imakos showed up at a time in my life when I needed armor. Teeth issues? They’ve always resurfaced in my story. Always.

Like when my last property manager said, “You can’t clean the stairs.”

Baby. I reached in my drawer, pulled out Polident, and cleaned those stairs SPOTLESS. Effervescent. Minty fresh. Property manager was shook.

Then there was the night I went to see Michelle Obama. Popped in my Imakos because it was a FUN night. I dressed the part. Hair done. Makeup done. I was serving First Lady meets Eugene.

OH WAIT — I wore a lace front from when I went to Las Vegas to get the hair. Lace fronts and wigs? They were for my cocoon stage… because in the beginning, I pulled out all my hair. Stress. Trauma. Healing.

But look at God: He restores your crown. My hair is long now. Natural. And I did buy a wig recently and pulled it off. Can’t stand wigs, but I respect wigs — because many women need them, including men. So we’re kind when people wear things. We don’t know the whole story.

Funny how teeth and hair keep showing up in my testimony. I went to stay with my father. He didn’t know my whole story. I rented a car to see his place and pulling up? Man. Being a light-skinned Black girl? There’s a difference. How I’m treated is different than a darker person. I learned early there’s a difference in words, too.

Like that word — the n-word. A white person shouldn’t dare call a Black person that. I learned that from a childhood friend, Melissa. She called a Black produce worker that word and got fired. Then said Dr. Hall in our Black Humanities class told her it was okay. Girl… she missed the concept. She was too busy playing around in class instead of listening.

Words matter. Context matters. Listening matters.

Anyway — in Roseburg, at my father’s messy apartment, I went to the bathroom and saw a toothbrush that vibrated. I said, “Dad, I can masturbate to the toothbrush.” He sent me running down the hill. I dropped my panties, grabbed Febreze, sprayed myself, and took the option I was given — sent back to Eugene with the mental health people.

And the funny thing? I had my car towed to the dealership in Eugene. Picked a flower on the way and gave it to the woman working. Kindness travels.

When my father died, that same vibrating toothbrush — the one that actually flosses — is now in my storage. Full circle.

I still have teeth issues. I’ve got CareCredit for a large amount just sitting there. Maybe I’ll go to Mexico one day and get my teeth repaired. Have mercy.

Moral of the story:

Imakos, Polident, lace fronts, vibrating toothbrushes — God will use anything to keep you laughing through healing.

Your crown will grow back. Your smile will get fixed. And your story? It’s yours. No shame in the journey.

Phd Student. Daughter of a retired police offcer