Monday Mar 30, 2026

THE SMILE I TOOK BACK

The Smile I Took Back

For years — and I mean years — I knew I needed to sort my teeth.

Not casually.

Not “one day I’ll get round to it.”

Properly.

I had the money at different points.
I had the opportunity.
I had the time.

And every single time, I talked myself out of it.

Fear.

Doubt.

“What if it goes wrong?”
“What if it looks worse?”
“What if I regret it?”

So I waited.

And while I waited, something else was happening.

People started calling me grumpy.

“You never smile.”

I’d laugh it off.
Make a joke.
Play up the comedy.

Deflect.

But it wasn’t grumpiness.

It was sadness.

It was self-consciousness.

It was hiding.

How I looked was affecting how I felt. Deeply.

I wasn’t walking into rooms as myself. I was walking in guarded.

And when something eats away at your confidence long enough, it starts to shape your personality in the eyes of others.

That was a gravely unhappy time.

And people attached it to me.

If only it had been that simple.

The Decision I Finally Made

This time, I did something different.

I made a deliberate spur-of-the-moment decision.

Because I knew if I gave myself time, I would talk myself out of it again.

So I booked it.

In the UK, the work would have cost somewhere between £15,000 and £20,000.

Abroad, it was significantly more affordable — and faster.

So I committed before fear could catch up.

That doesn’t mean fear didn’t try.

Leaving my animals for a week was hard.

Three hours to the airport.
Four and a half hours in the air.
Half an hour transfer.

Exhausted before I even arrived.

And the entire journey, every scenario ran through my head.

“What if this changes me?”
“What if I don’t recognise myself?”
“What if I hate it?”

On the plane, I met people who had already started their treatment. They were returning for the second stage.

Calm. Positive. Happy.

Hearing that helped more than they’ll ever know.

The morning of the first treatment, I nearly pulled out.

Panic creeping in. Breath shallow. The urge to retreat loud.

But this time, I didn’t retreat.

The Moment It Shifted

Two treatment days.

The first felt overwhelming simply because it was real.

The second felt different — because I’d already crossed the line.

When it was finished and I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see someone new.

I saw someone I recognised.

Someone I hadn’t seen in years.

Ease.

And I smiled.

Properly.

Not cautiously.

Not half-heartedly.

Fully.

I’ve been smiling every day since.

And not to justify the cost.

Because I want to.

What It Really Was

This wasn’t about looking younger.

I’m nearly 57.

This wasn’t about competing.

It was about not hiding anymore.

In musical theatre, appearance matters. We all know that.

But this wasn’t about industry pressure.

It was about internal pressure.

I had spent years feeling unsure of myself. Less confident. Diminished.

People thought I was grumpy.

I wasn’t.

I was hurting.

And now I’m not.

The New Journey

Sorting my teeth wasn’t cosmetic.

It was emotional.

It was health.

It was saying, “You don’t have to carry this anymore.”

I want to walk into an audition room and smile without thinking about it.

I want to hear my voice once everything has settled and feel that lift in confidence.

I want people to see a happy version of me.

Because I am happy.

This feels like a new journey.

Not chasing youth.

Not rewriting history.

Just removing something that had been quietly weighing me down for years.

The Truth

Sometimes the bravest thing you do isn’t stepping on stage.

It’s booking the appointment.

It’s getting on the plane.

It’s sitting in the chair when every part of you wants to leave.

For years I hid.

Now I don’t.

And if I return to musical theatre — and I intend to try — I’ll do it smiling.