🪥 The Toothpaste Industrial Complex

Weaponized freshness and the death of common sense.

I’m not proud of it, but I’m currently in a toxic relationship……with Crest. Or maybe Colgate. Or Sensodyne. What happened to Aim or Aquafresh? Those were the cool ones in the 80’s…..Now, there’s Tom’s from Maine; which I have a fondness for. The state, not the toothpaste; though Tom’s makes a fine product.

I honestly don’t know anymore. What I do know is that I’ve been gaslit by Big Dental Hygiene, and I want out.

Have you been to the toothpaste aisle lately? It’s not a shopping trip… it’s a psychological stress test. The shelves stretch endlessly, like the warehouse at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

What has happened to us? Why have we allowed this? It’s a war zone. A brightly lit, vaguely mint-scented labyrinth of lies. There are more toothpaste options than there are Starbucks drinks. “Advanced Whitening.” “3D Brilliance.” “Tartar Control.” “Gum Detoxify.”
Gum detoxify? What are my gums doing that require me to wear a hazmat suit?

Why is this so hard? Why does buying toothpaste, of all things, make me feel like a 16 year-old trying to parallel park during their driver’s test? I don’t get this stressed buying mayonnaise. I walk into the mayo section, grab the one jar I know, and move on with my life like a sane person. No existential dread. No panic attack. I’m not questioning if it secretly contains seaweed, microplastics or a government conspiracy.

But toothpaste? I’m standing there like I’m on day three of a hostage negotiation.

Do we really need 700 different kinds of a product we smear on our teeth for two minutes and then spit down the drain?

I just want to brush my teeth, not fill out a Myers-Briggs personality assessment.

And don’t get me started on the caps. We used to have the good old-fashioned screw tops—the Ford F-150 of toothpaste lids. Reliable. Dependable. Did the job. Now we’ve got these over-engineered, pressure packed nozzles that explode like Mentos in Diet Coke.

Every week, my toothpaste detonates like a Roman candle at a block party.
Greenish-white paste seeps into my deodorant, fuses with my electric razor, and forms a minty chemical weapon strong enough to kill a houseplant.
My bag smells like a spearmint crime scene. My razor sounds like it’s brushing its teeth now.

And no, this stuff doesn’t wash out. Get it on your clothes? It’s over.

You don’t wash toothpaste out. You burn the item and start a new life in Utah.

It wasn’t always this way. There used to be three kinds of toothpaste: Regular. Mint. And the weird cinnamon one your older sister used in the 70’s. You picked one and moved on with your day. No pressure. No regrets.

I don’t need my teeth to be brighter than the sun or need to rebuild enamel. I want to clean my teeth and freshen my breath so people don’t nickname me “Hal” for short. Oh, and I want to avoid destroying my dopp kit with a minty Molotov cocktail.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the only one waging war with travel caps and whitening paste. But if you’ve ever found yourself scrubbing toothpaste off your AirPods with a sock while questioning every decision you’ve ever made… you are not alone.

We are a quiet army.
We have sensitive gums.
And we’re not going quietly into the minty night.

Keep going.

KJ