Who steals from their own daughter? Well, my stepmom did. She snatched $5,000 from my college fund to get veneers, all in the name of achieving a Hollywood-worthy smile. But karma worked quicker than a dental drill, leaving her with far more regret than glamour.
I’m Kristen, a typical 17-year-old with dreams bigger than my stepmom’s ego. My mom passed away when I was young, but she left me a college fund. It wasn’t massive, but it was a good start for my future.
My dad, Bob, and I had been adding to the fund ever since, mostly from the money I made through part-time tutoring. You know, helping kids who think “Pi” is just something you eat with ice cream. And some babysitting gigs helped too, which paid me weekly.
She spends more time looking at herself in the mirror than anyone I’ve ever seen. I swear, if vanity were an Olympic event, Tracy would give Narcissus a run for his money.
Her obsession with appearances is on another level. It’s all about her clothes, hair, nails — everything has to be flawless. Honestly, it’s like she’s trying to be a real-life Barbie. No offense to the real Barbie!
One day, I came home to find Tracy grinning like she’d just won the lottery.
“Kristen, darling!” she sang out, her voice sugary sweet. “Guess what your wonderful stepmom is going to do?”
Tracy’s smile flickered for just a second before she quickly recovered. “No, silly! I’m getting veneers! Isn’t that fabulous?”
“Uh, congrats?” I mumbled, still not sure why this needed such a big announcement.
That’s when my stomach dropped like a rock. “What do you mean?” I asked, already knowing I wasn’t going to like the answer.
Tracy’s grin got even wider, but her yellowed teeth made me wonder why she hadn’t done this sooner.
I stared at her, my jaw practically hitting the floor. “You did WHAT? You STOLE from my college fund?”
Tracy rolled her eyes dramatically, like I was the one overreacting. “Stole? I’m family. It’s not a big deal, sweetie!”
“Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’s just money. And your dad agreed to it,” she added with a little wink.
Now that was a flat-out lie bigger than her future dental bill. Dad would never agree to something like that. He’d rather watch back-to-back episodes of her favorite reality shows than let her touch that money.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. But knowing Dad, that probably meant he’d mention it once and hope it magically resolved itself.
A few weeks later, Tracy got her veneers. She paraded around the house, showing off her new teeth like she was auditioning for America’s Next Top Model. Living with her was like having a lighthouse in the house — always flashing that new smile.
I clenched my jaw so hard I thought I might need veneers myself. “Sure,” I mumbled. “Because blowing five grand on fake teeth is totally normal, right?”
Tracy’s smile tightened. “Watch it, Missy. Remember who’s putting a roof over your head.”
About a month after her so-called “transformation,” Tracy decided to throw a BBQ to show off her new smile to the whole neighborhood. It was like watching a slow-motion disaster, only with more potato salad.
“Ladies, come over here!” Tracy announced at the BBQ, tapping her wine glass to get everyone’s attention. “I simply must tell you all about my amazing transformation!”
“It’s all thanks to the wonderful Dr. Kapoor,” Tracy gushed. “He’s not just a dentist, he’s an artist! A smile sculptor! A tooth whisperer!”
“Did he also whisper to your wallet?” I muttered under my breath, but Tracy was too busy soaking up the compliments to notice.
I nearly spit out my drink. Smart investments? Is that what we’re calling stealing these days?
Right then, Tracy put down her wine glass and reached for a piece of corn on the cob. “You know, ladies, life is all about taking chances and—”
The sound shot across the backyard, loud and sharp like a gunshot. Tracy’s eyes grew wide in shock, her hand shooting up to cover her mouth faster than anyone could say “dental disaster.”
“Oh my God, Tracy! Are you okay?” one of her friends gasped, rushing over in concern.
“I… I…” Tracy stammered, sounding like she was suddenly auditioning for the part of Sylvester the Cat. “Ekthcuthe me!”
She bolted into the house, leaving behind a yard full of stunned guests and one very pleased stepdaughter trying hard not to burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“What do you mean it’ll cotht more to fikth?” Tracy screeched into the phone. “Thith ith your fault! You thaid thethe were top quality!”
It turned out, Tracy had gone for the cheap option, picking bargain veneers. And now, to fix it, she’d have to fork out a ton more money! Karma, as they say, is a witch with a capital B, and it had just given Tracy a big, painful reminder.
Tracy, still hiding behind her hand, trying to cover her broken smile, tried to dodge the conversation. “Bob, honey, now’th not the thime. Can’t you thee I’m dealing with a crithith?”
For the first time since I’d known her, Tracy genuinely looked scared. It was like watching a deer caught in headlights—except this deer had bad dental work and a speech problem!
In the weeks that followed, Tracy became even more of a recluse, hiding from the world in a way that would make even the most solitary monk seem social.
As for me? Well, Dad made good on his promise. He’s been working overtime to rebuild my college fund, and Tracy’s been unusually quiet about her spending habits.
I guess it’s tough to argue when you sound like you’re whistling through a mouthful of marbles.
“Hey, Tracy,” I called out, flashing her my perfectly imperfect “alligator-tooth” grin. “Need thome invethment advithe?”
She shot me a look that could kill and stomped away, but I swear I saw Dad fighting to hold back a smile.
As for me? I learned that some of the most important things in life aren’t the ones you can buy. They’re the lessons you pick up along the way, and the sweet satisfaction of watching justice unfold, one broken veneer at a time.
And now? I’ve got enough material to write a bestselling memoir: *From Fangs to Fortune: How My Stepmom’s Dental Disaster Saved My College Fund*. What do you think?
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
