“You should smile more.” Ever had a randomer say this to you on the street and think “why?”

So you’d rather a bunch of psychopaths with smiles wider than the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland instead of people naturally expressing their emotions?

“Do a more natural smile.” Another common remark that leads to a group of girls laughing and smiling faker than a ten-euro bottle of Chanel perfume, their hands spread out like a bunch of birds getting ready for takeoff until the moment is captured and saved. A comment with ‘So candid!’ can be found underneath their Instagram post later that night.

“She looks miserable!” will be thrown at the odd fecker amongst the happy lot who just wanted the picture to end so they could carry on with their conversation at the party. We are all guilty of judging based on surface-level stuff rather than thinking further than the filter.

As a kid, my teeth were massive: the top ones stuck out, the bottom ones stuck in. All spaced a part. It’s like they had a family breakdown and wanted to get as far away from each other as possible. It never bothered me, or at least I don’t remember it bothering me until I turned 12 and had someone call me a ‘buck tooth bitch’ which played on repeat in my head like a catchy one hit wonder. (Ah, the joys of being a teenager).

I wish I could go back to younger Saoirse and say:

“Hey. People are gonna compliment your teeth eventually. And your teeth are not your smile or your laugh! They are just these weird things you need to chew food that’ll fall out when your old. And, worse case scenario, they’ll have veneers and all kinds of cool things you can do with your teeth in the future or you can even put a blue mask on to hide them, just you wait. They’ll probably even manage to bring buck teeth back into fashion, as they do with everything.”

But I know those words of wisdom would’ve meant nothing because once I hit 13, I was not only a ‘buck tooth bitch’, but a buck tooth bitch with braces. I literally had a meltdown after leaving the orthodontist’s office and screamed: “I’m going to have braces on Christmas morning!” My poor mother tried to console me, but brushed it off as overreacting. At that age, the tiniest bit of change can feel like the world is ending as we’re still discovering who we are and learning the weird ways of the world. It would be years of trying to live with these metal bars. Years of forcing my teeth to like each other, and for me to like them more.

I decided if I had to fix my teeth, I was going to do it right. I read all of the dentist’s warnings against fizzy drinks and apples, then immediately labelled these as my enemies. I was punishing myself further for something that already felt like a punishment. It would be worth it in the end, they said as I slurped my water.

Getting braces at the same time as starting secondary school (knowing nobody) was what I imagine self-help authors would refer to as an ‘opportunity for growth’. But at the time it felt like a test I was setup to fail. Learning to speak with braces felt like Hannibal Lecter trying to mingle with a mouth full of food: uncomfortable with a risk of spitting all over someone or scaring them away with my metal bars.

Eventually, I got used to them and started talking so much I wouldn’t shut up. But rather than smiling with my mouth open in pictures, I resorted to the popular duck pout. I was probably mistaken for having a resting bitch face many a time, but really it was a resting braces face. Whenever I laughed, I would instinctively cover my mouth with my hands, hiding the metal bars. Something I still stop myself from doing on occasion.

When I finally had my braces removed, I was 16 and it felt weird. I didn’t immediately love my teeth again; they were foreigners to me. They’d broken out of prison and the family were learning to be together again. It was like getting a new haircut you know you’re going to like once you’ve gotten used to it and washed it yourself. So, instead of taking a picture, I indulged in an apple as soon as I could.

It took me a while to remember how to smile with my teeth on display without feeling I was flaunting them in people’s faces. Now, everyone says I smile so much I’ve a “smiley head on me” as I’m not afraid to give a wide grin.

BUT, getting braces or having them removed isn’t what helped me overcome my fear of smiling. What I learnt is that it’s not about whether you’ve pointy teeth or round teeth, white teeth or yellow teeth. A missing tooth or none at all. Smiling is smiling. Please share that smile or laugh carelessly without worrying about how you look. And don’t share it if you don’t feel like it. Because I think that’s more infectious and attractive than only smiling the way society tells you looks good. We can use braces to force our teeth together or botox to prevent wrinkles, but it won’t give us the silly childlike carelessness we all want to express.