My toothpaste purports to give me healthy gums, clean teeth, and sensational fresh breath.
I haven't got any problems with these.
They seem like nice traits to have.
In fact, my dentist has, on occasion, commented that I have clean teeth AND healthy gums. However, no-one's ever so much as complimented my breath. The closest I've got has been a girl saying "Oh, you've brushed your teeth." More an observation than flattery.
What am I doing wrong?
I brush. I rinse. I've flossed. Nothing.
I've breathed on all manner of people. In the street and at the pub. Nothing. In confined spaces like elevators. Nothing. Even on packed trains when they're an inch from my face and I know they can smell it. All I've got for my troubles is a court order.
Why can't my breath be sensational? Why not just amazing? I bet former Western Warriors captain Tom Moody has great breath. I bet he's got amazing breath. And even though he's so tall, it still permeates people's olfactory senses, and even if they don't say anything, they still think to themselves,"Wow, that breath is sensational."
I've decided to take a stand. No longer will I aspire to sensational breath. I'll forge ahead for a new compliment. I will have interesting breath. Complex, deep, bold, yet subtle. People will come together in a wooden cellar on Tuesday evenings to sniff my breath and discuss its body. Its texture. Its gentle undertones. One week I'll chew that blue PK that old sailors chew, and they won't know what hit them. Or maybe I'll chew on some coconut husk, see if that throws em. So many opportunities.
Yeah, I'm gonna put some serious time into my breath.
Or stop buying cheap toothpaste.
I haven't got any problems with these.
They seem like nice traits to have.
In fact, my dentist has, on occasion, commented that I have clean teeth AND healthy gums. However, no-one's ever so much as complimented my breath. The closest I've got has been a girl saying "Oh, you've brushed your teeth." More an observation than flattery.
What am I doing wrong?
I brush. I rinse. I've flossed. Nothing.
I've breathed on all manner of people. In the street and at the pub. Nothing. In confined spaces like elevators. Nothing. Even on packed trains when they're an inch from my face and I know they can smell it. All I've got for my troubles is a court order.
Why can't my breath be sensational? Why not just amazing? I bet former Western Warriors captain Tom Moody has great breath. I bet he's got amazing breath. And even though he's so tall, it still permeates people's olfactory senses, and even if they don't say anything, they still think to themselves,"Wow, that breath is sensational."
I've decided to take a stand. No longer will I aspire to sensational breath. I'll forge ahead for a new compliment. I will have interesting breath. Complex, deep, bold, yet subtle. People will come together in a wooden cellar on Tuesday evenings to sniff my breath and discuss its body. Its texture. Its gentle undertones. One week I'll chew that blue PK that old sailors chew, and they won't know what hit them. Or maybe I'll chew on some coconut husk, see if that throws em. So many opportunities.
Yeah, I'm gonna put some serious time into my breath.
Or stop buying cheap toothpaste.
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