The Rebel Toothbrusher.

I have a mini rebel living within me (it's like a mini-pony, but in my brain).  It makes me enjoy things that are not supposed to be enjoyed merely because they are different and being an oddball excites me. How to deal? Growing up, I'd flunk a test here or there, draw/paint/vandalize my own bedroom walls, walk to parties instead of drive (and driving was way cooler), or NOT even attempting to have a sip of alcohol at Woodstock '99 when I was 16 and definitely could have gotten away with it.  Isn't being different fun?!  Nowadays, I still have my quirks - the walking thing, not getting an iPhone, not reading Harry Potter or Twilight, or wearing "name" brands.  There are a million things that I find myself being a little rebellious with on the regular.  And toothpaste is one of them.

As a kid, my parents would HATE how gross I allowed my toothpaste container to become.  They weren't even being mean, my toothpaste was nasty...and did no small wonders for making the hallway bathroom appear tidy.  Still, no matter how many times they begged/thought I was brain dead/pleaded for a cleaner toothpaste tube appearance, I couldn't shake my love for a freeing toothpaste application experience.  Oh, kids. So silly.

Now I am almost 30.  I have a career. I have a husband and a super-mutt.  I have my own house...with my own bathroom (see where I'm going with this).  I have my own toothpaste. And it looks like this:

Just enough room for miniscule portions of paste to squeeze out. Perfect.

This glob is hidden when houseguests are around. Don't worry.

Being a mini-rebel is tough. And somewhat disgusting.

Sorry Mom!