I’m Vyvyan (AKA Jet or Jennette) and I go by Skaði Jötunn: a Southern‑hearted drag performer who loves charity shows, my handsome husband, and our spoiled cats who think they’re the landlords. I try to give kindness wherever I can, keep folks laughing, and mind my own business… mostly. Life’s sweeter with love, glitter, and a little mischief. I am the kind of person who'd rather help others than ask for help for myself.

My story?:

I’ve spent my whole life carrying the kind of hurt you don’t see at first glance. When I was a kid, I was bullied so badly that my teeth were pulled, twisted, and knocked around before they ever had a chance to grow the way they were meant to. Then, in first grade, I had a dentist experience so frightening it settled into me like a shadow. I still went when I absolutely had to, but I stopped caring for my teeth the way a child should. Fear has a way of teaching you to look away from the very thing that needs tending.

As the years went on, the damage only deepened. One of my canine teeth grew straight out of the middle of my palate. I had to get it pulled “for cosmetic reasons,” even though it hurt every single day. At least after that, I stopped biting my own tongue every time I closed my mouth ... which, frankly, felt like a personal victory. You learn to celebrate the small wins when life keeps handing you the strange ones.

Now I’m grown, and my teeth are almost gone ... about 90% rotted out. I’ve lived with infections, extractions, X‑rays, and more quiet embarrassment than I’d ever wish on another person. I’ve spent years perfecting the art of the half‑smile and the “hand‑over‑the‑mouth laugh,” which I’m pretty sure should qualify me for some kind of Olympic event by now. But beneath the humor is something real: this is one of the things I’m most ashamed of. I’m a proud person, and admitting all this to the world feels like stepping outside in my house shoes and realizing the whole neighborhood’s watching.

But I’m finally ready to fix this. I want dentures so I can eat without bracing myself, speak without hiding, and smile like someone who still believes good things can happen. The cost, though, is more than I can shoulder alone. Even going through the OU College of Dentistry, it’s a heavy lift. I’m not asking for anything fancy (just basic snap‑in dentures) so I can have a chance at a normal life. My friends, family, and community have encouraged me to ask for help, and I’m trying to set my pride aside long enough to do just that.

If you can help ... even a single dollar ... it brings me closer to something I’ve never truly had: a healthy smile, a life without constant pain, a chance to feel whole. Every bit of support is a step toward finally being able to look in the mirror and see someone who made it through. And who knows; maybe one day I’ll even smile big enough to blind somebody in the Walmart parking lot. A girl can dream.

Thank you for reading my story. Thank you for caring enough to sit with it. And thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for helping me take this step toward a life that doesn’t hurt quite so much.