So the one thing I did not ever consider about getting a mouth full of metal is that it tastes like...Well, metal. So that'll take some getting used to, as well as the bar touching my tongue and occasionally making me slur like I have the mumps or something.
Anyways, everything went entirely painlessly today, literally. As where with the first spacers they hurt and made it hard to chew, this entire procedure was easy and painless. Today I had my anchor put in, which is two bands around my teeth, and then a bar that goes across, along the roof of my mouth. After removing the spacers the bands just slipped in.
How an anchor works and how it's put in:
An Anchor holds back your back teeth, which have a natural inclination to move forward, kind of like politicians. This allows them to work with your front teeth so they have space to straighten out.
First you need spacers put in, these make room for the bands that go around your teeth, after an amount of time they can remove these and put in the bands. The band is sized to your tooth first, and then has an attachment welded on it else where.
They dry out your mouth and condition the tooth with something that tastes bitter to discourage you from touching it with your teeth. Then you rinse and spit, and they put in the bands with the help of some glue (and your assistance; biting down and squeezing when you're told). The glue is dried by an ultra violet light and one more rinse and spit and voila the first part of your anchor is complete. You may now spend you time running your tongue over the little metal clasps for the bar. The bar is v shaped bit of metal that runs along the roof of your mouth, they size it to your mouth and occasionally, if your mouth is retarded enough (like mine) spend a good deal of time twisting it into proper form. Putting in the bar is a little awkward and may have to be done a few times but it's painless. After that, unless you're only getting an anchor on top they'll put spacers in on the bottom so next appointment you can do it all over again!
The bottom spacers didn't hurt at all though I did need a spring spacer because my teeth were too tight in one area for the regular ones to fit.
Other than that and some payment issues I won't bore you with, it was rather uneventful. One of the lovely ortho ladies who was fitting me for the bands said "You're going to have to most beautiful before and afters" which, was in reference to my teeth being bad now but is also nice, because it's how I'm thinking of it now. "After all this my teeth will be straight...And won't that be something."
I really can't fathom it though..Should be an interesting ride
~E
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Interview Appointment
If you've read my previous post, The Beginning (and kudos to you if you did it was biblical in proportion) you would have read of the trauma the CWIP (crazy woman in pink) inflicted upon our first encounter. And las tnight despite my confidence in wanting to go through with the strapping on of the dreaded dental straightening devices, I barely slept. I tossed, I turned, I found myself staring at the ceiling, sick to my stomach wondering what the morning would bring.
Well I tell you, never in all my life have I wasted a night worrying like I did the one last night. And it really goes to show you that the right doctor makes all the difference!
Today I saw Dr. S and his various lovely dental assistants or hygienists or whatever you call them. Now first off I'd like to say, and I forgot in my previous post, I HAVE seen this orthodontist before. Ten at the time I had little sway on what my parents did and my mother had discovered her shiny orthodontics coverage just before the company she worked for cut it. So at the age of 10 I met this doctor, once, I couldn't remember anything about him but a mahogany table, a case of teeth models, and that I got to pick the flavour of goop they put in my mouth to cast said model. ( I picked rootbeer)
So, with that as a memory I didn't have much to go on but I had been ten, what if I didn't pick up on the rudeness? Or what if he wanted to strap me into headgear!?
Alas, I cannot regale you with a humorous tale of woe because there wasn't one. I entered, to see the case of teeth models to the right still where I'd left it nine years prior, and the wall to the left having moved over significantly. "We're under renovations! Sorry!" Said a lovely blond lady with perfect teeth behind the counter. She handed me the paperwork on a nifty tooth shaped clipboard and I set to work chipping away at it.
Do you have psoriasis? I will never know what that has to do with orthodontics...I read a very round about document that said they wouldn't give out my personal information and signed away my soul on the dotted line, resisting the urge to write "Please don't brutally maim me." on the line reserved for additional concerns not in the sheet, and then carried on with the torture.
I must say that Dr. S is A LOT more thorough than the CWIP, I followed a lovely ortho-girl - as I will call them from now on - down a spiralled staircase into a room where she took not only my mugshot, but a series of ridiculous pictures where one seriously wonders whether someone will jump out and yell psyche! She took my mugshot, a photo of my face while holding up a name card, I assume so they can remember me even if they don't. Then a series of photos where I bore my crooked smile left and forwards for her and she put plastic cheek retractors in which look sort of like a medieval torture device, feel like an a weird alien contraption and make you look like a dork.
(this picture is not me, this woman has straight teeth)
Also, she took a series of x-rays, where I had to put my chin on this, and my forehead on that, stand over here and let her put things that looked like light-bright pegs in my ears to hold my head still. Fun times! We had a laugh though and she was really nice. We then proceeded to play musical rooms, moving upstairs where for the second time in my life I got to pick the flavour of the goop they put in my mouth (Cherry, they'd discontinued rootbeer). If the cheek retractors looked medieval the metal mouth trays looked diabolical. "We're going to be putting big things in a small mouth so bear with me here." Said the lovely ortho-girl, to which I mumbled "That's what she said." Before she filled my mouth with foam. (Hehe!)
After the impressions and photos were taken I moved rooms to meet Dr. S, I was surprised when another Lovely Ortho-Girl came in, looking over my x-rays she said "Wow, those are some LOVELY wisdom teeth." I laughed lightly in an awkward kind of 'you're talking about my teeth way'. My wisdom teeth, apparently, are above all my other teeth, never to emerge. The bottom ones have hope of extraction but with probably never cut either. Small mouth, lots of teeth. Oh my! Either way, I was beginning to be awkward when this lovely lady with perfect teeth said; "This is probably exactly how my x-ray looked before I got braces" Whether this was a lie or not I was instantly at ease, if this lovely girl once had my problems, I still had hope! I tried without success to imagine her with a wonky mouth full of braces in her younger years, much like it is impossible to imagine myself without my wonky mouth.
Then Dr. S entered! He began looking through my mouth wording off what my issues were to the Lovely Ortho-Girl in Dentist speak. "How old were you when you got your braces?" He asked the blonde ortho-girl (so it was not a lie!) "Older than she was anyways...I was 23." More hope! "See? Not too late" As if he had read it off my face. Relaxed by this I said around his fingers. "Yup, I'm not dead yet." To which my new and hilarious Orthodontist replied. "No, which also, you're not allowed to do. If you die your teeth will stop moving and I'll never finish, so you can't. In fact,I'll make you sign papers about it." We laughed and then we talked about the braces.
It's amazing how quickly versed you become in the terminology! I need to have two teeth removed (ouch!) to make space so that the others can straighten out, because of this they need to put in an anchor, which first requires separators. An anchor is, pretty much just what it sounds like, a device that prevents other teeth (the back teeth) from moving, because the natural sway of things make the back teeth move to fill in the space when teeth fall out or are removed. However its the front teeth we want moving, so the anchor goes around the back teeth, over the roof of my mouth on top, and along the back of my teeth on the bottom. A little bothersome he admitted, but you acclimatize quickly.
(This is an expander...It looks sort of like an anchor but pushes your teeth outward, it gives the general idea though)
Before any of that though, you need seperators, Dr. S said that if I was comfortable with it, I could get the top ones in put in before I left, eager to get started on the process I agreed. A separator is a tiny circle of rubber that they put between your teeth (hurts as much as flossing!) to makes space for things like anchors or other orthodontic tools. Despite the tight, something-between-my-teeth feeling and the occasional bit of gum irritation it's not bad at all! You can't floss between those teeth with them but other than that they require no other effort.
Then of course, comes braces, and, once removed a clear plastic retainer that is practically invisible! (Following the same appearance as invis-align)
I haven't mentioned the best part yet! Dr. S quoted me at a year and three quarters! And he said that's with a time buffer! He's not making promises but really? It's nothing! I'm so happy. A year and three quarters to perfect teeth. Wow.
My next appointment is October 20th at 12:00...It's so exciting to get this ball rolling!
~E
Well I tell you, never in all my life have I wasted a night worrying like I did the one last night. And it really goes to show you that the right doctor makes all the difference!
Today I saw Dr. S and his various lovely dental assistants or hygienists or whatever you call them. Now first off I'd like to say, and I forgot in my previous post, I HAVE seen this orthodontist before. Ten at the time I had little sway on what my parents did and my mother had discovered her shiny orthodontics coverage just before the company she worked for cut it. So at the age of 10 I met this doctor, once, I couldn't remember anything about him but a mahogany table, a case of teeth models, and that I got to pick the flavour of goop they put in my mouth to cast said model. ( I picked rootbeer)
So, with that as a memory I didn't have much to go on but I had been ten, what if I didn't pick up on the rudeness? Or what if he wanted to strap me into headgear!?
Alas, I cannot regale you with a humorous tale of woe because there wasn't one. I entered, to see the case of teeth models to the right still where I'd left it nine years prior, and the wall to the left having moved over significantly. "We're under renovations! Sorry!" Said a lovely blond lady with perfect teeth behind the counter. She handed me the paperwork on a nifty tooth shaped clipboard and I set to work chipping away at it.
Do you have psoriasis? I will never know what that has to do with orthodontics...I read a very round about document that said they wouldn't give out my personal information and signed away my soul on the dotted line, resisting the urge to write "Please don't brutally maim me." on the line reserved for additional concerns not in the sheet, and then carried on with the torture.
I must say that Dr. S is A LOT more thorough than the CWIP, I followed a lovely ortho-girl - as I will call them from now on - down a spiralled staircase into a room where she took not only my mugshot, but a series of ridiculous pictures where one seriously wonders whether someone will jump out and yell psyche! She took my mugshot, a photo of my face while holding up a name card, I assume so they can remember me even if they don't. Then a series of photos where I bore my crooked smile left and forwards for her and she put plastic cheek retractors in which look sort of like a medieval torture device, feel like an a weird alien contraption and make you look like a dork.
Also, she took a series of x-rays, where I had to put my chin on this, and my forehead on that, stand over here and let her put things that looked like light-bright pegs in my ears to hold my head still. Fun times! We had a laugh though and she was really nice. We then proceeded to play musical rooms, moving upstairs where for the second time in my life I got to pick the flavour of the goop they put in my mouth (Cherry, they'd discontinued rootbeer). If the cheek retractors looked medieval the metal mouth trays looked diabolical. "We're going to be putting big things in a small mouth so bear with me here." Said the lovely ortho-girl, to which I mumbled "That's what she said." Before she filled my mouth with foam. (Hehe!)
After the impressions and photos were taken I moved rooms to meet Dr. S, I was surprised when another Lovely Ortho-Girl came in, looking over my x-rays she said "Wow, those are some LOVELY wisdom teeth." I laughed lightly in an awkward kind of 'you're talking about my teeth way'. My wisdom teeth, apparently, are above all my other teeth, never to emerge. The bottom ones have hope of extraction but with probably never cut either. Small mouth, lots of teeth. Oh my! Either way, I was beginning to be awkward when this lovely lady with perfect teeth said; "This is probably exactly how my x-ray looked before I got braces" Whether this was a lie or not I was instantly at ease, if this lovely girl once had my problems, I still had hope! I tried without success to imagine her with a wonky mouth full of braces in her younger years, much like it is impossible to imagine myself without my wonky mouth.
Then Dr. S entered! He began looking through my mouth wording off what my issues were to the Lovely Ortho-Girl in Dentist speak. "How old were you when you got your braces?" He asked the blonde ortho-girl (so it was not a lie!) "Older than she was anyways...I was 23." More hope! "See? Not too late" As if he had read it off my face. Relaxed by this I said around his fingers. "Yup, I'm not dead yet." To which my new and hilarious Orthodontist replied. "No, which also, you're not allowed to do. If you die your teeth will stop moving and I'll never finish, so you can't. In fact,I'll make you sign papers about it." We laughed and then we talked about the braces.
It's amazing how quickly versed you become in the terminology! I need to have two teeth removed (ouch!) to make space so that the others can straighten out, because of this they need to put in an anchor, which first requires separators. An anchor is, pretty much just what it sounds like, a device that prevents other teeth (the back teeth) from moving, because the natural sway of things make the back teeth move to fill in the space when teeth fall out or are removed. However its the front teeth we want moving, so the anchor goes around the back teeth, over the roof of my mouth on top, and along the back of my teeth on the bottom. A little bothersome he admitted, but you acclimatize quickly.
Before any of that though, you need seperators, Dr. S said that if I was comfortable with it, I could get the top ones in put in before I left, eager to get started on the process I agreed. A separator is a tiny circle of rubber that they put between your teeth (hurts as much as flossing!) to makes space for things like anchors or other orthodontic tools. Despite the tight, something-between-my-teeth feeling and the occasional bit of gum irritation it's not bad at all! You can't floss between those teeth with them but other than that they require no other effort.
Then of course, comes braces, and, once removed a clear plastic retainer that is practically invisible! (Following the same appearance as invis-align)
I haven't mentioned the best part yet! Dr. S quoted me at a year and three quarters! And he said that's with a time buffer! He's not making promises but really? It's nothing! I'm so happy. A year and three quarters to perfect teeth. Wow.
My next appointment is October 20th at 12:00...It's so exciting to get this ball rolling!
~E
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The Beginning
What an ambiguous title. You have to give me the benefit of reason though, the beginning, as with all things in life, is the best place to start. So I'd like for a moment to take a stroll backwards through time before I get on with any explanations as to why on earth anyone would want to read anything concerning my very wonky mouth.
When I was young, as many children often are, my dentist noticed that I had what people like to call "Crowding" which means my mouth was too small for my horse sized teeth. Why would my skull park a metaphorical Hummers in a space where only SmartCars would fit? I will never know, but it was a most cruel trick to play. But, the benefit with children is that they do indeed grow, and they lose teeth like people in casinos lose money. I however, did not. Whether I had abandonment issues or what, I held onto my baby teeth for all they were worth (Two dollars a piece in the tooth fairy trade) which caused only further issues in my already wonky mouth. Adult teeth grew where baby teeth had yet to leave, adult teeth grew in spaces much too small for them, adult teeth grew where ever they damn well pleased and nuts to the natural layout of ones mouth.
Needless to say this resulted in a rather unpleasant amount of crookedness, something people never failed to point out, with that same look like I had somehow offended them with the way my teeth had formed. "Wow! Your teeth are REALLY crooked." Why thank you Great Aunt Muriel, I love you too. And then came the question that thrilled me to no end! "When are you going to get braces? Don't you want braces?"
I don't know whether it was the fact I was born in May and Tauruses are well known for their stubborn nature and contrary attitude or whether it was that pesky first sin of Pride, but in my head I would always scream: "NO! NEVER! I DON'T WANT A MOUTH FULL OF METAL! I'D RATHER DIE! YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE!" and then my mental self would punch the asker in question in the face and jump out the nearest window to escape the fate that was braces. But, being a child and also having a distaste for upsetting others I would smile, close lipped of course, as it would be for a long time after anyone mentioned my teeth. And say: "I don't know."
I don't honestly know what I thought; if I waited and ignored the problem long enough that maybe it would go away, but there they were, in every photo someone happened to snap while I was off guard, in the mirror every morning. I tried to embrace them, they were crooked! So what? Who cares!...I cared. Alot.
Always in my top wishes should genies magically appear before me, "perfect teeth", but I have yet to come across a genie and I am quickly approaching twenty. The subject haunted my dreams, and it's not like I didn't realize braces would help, that they aren't THAT big of a deal. I've had many friends with braces, but I didn't in any way envy them. It was pity I felt, pity and dread that I would be in that situation. They don't even look that bad so I don't understand why I was in such dread of braces, but that's the way it was. I wasn't comfortable with the idea, the end result was something I'd dreamt of, but I just wasn't willing to be ridiculed for something I could control. Crooked teeth was out of my hands, but hell or high water no one was calling me brace face.
Of course those who loved me wanted me in them not to ridicule me but to help, I knew that, but still I was vehement against it. Every time the topic came up my face would flush, I'd feel...Outcast. Like I was deformed because of my teeth, but I was entirely unwilling to fix them, because of the long and tedious process that would turn me into a "metal mouth", and what if, maybe in a stroke of sadism the doctor assigned me head gear? No, no, no it simply could not be done, I would just have to deal with my crooked smile and so would those around me.
But, as parents often do, mine won only a few years prior to now. They'd hounded me enough and started to find me an orthodontist. Hah...Oh this is a good story.
I won't name names but we drove out to an Orthodontist who specialized in children and teens for a interview appointment. She'd take a look and then discuss her rates and how long it would take etc. So we checked in and waited, while we were signing in I happened to look into one of the exam rooms whose door was left ajar. Inside I saw your stereotypical large chair with a small child inside it and a discussion going on between an insane looking woman in about 20 shades of pink from her jacket to her calf hugging heeled boots, and the Orthodontist in a typical white lab coat and serious demeanour. I watched them for a while unable to hear the conversations, pitying the poor boy in the chair for his mother's style of dress, before we were ushered into an exam room ourselves.
I waited in that dreaded dentist's chair in the centre of the room, looking at the various posters which are supposed to put a kid at ease, mixed in with ads for different kinds of dentistry wares. As I was wondering to myself if my mouth was too far-gone to do Invis-align instead of braces the door opens, and I am shocked to see the woman in pink! Hoping desperately that the crazy woman had wandered in by mistake I am stunned into silence as she begins her greetings and reaches for a pair of latex gloves. "Let's have a looksee" She said with a dazzling smile of perfect straight teeth I would have eaten slugs for. For those who have perfect teeth you can't understand what it's like to have a crooked smile, the way it eats away at everything you do. When you catch yourself smiling you stop, scared that people will mock your teeth, you try not to laugh without covering your mouth, it becomes akin to coughing, you might spread your ugliness if you don't protect those around you from it. Even talking in close quarters becomes an awkward event where you wonder if they've noticed, and you wish that it would be appropriate for you to just haul the collar of your shirt up to your nose. And should someone point out the mess your mouth is in, you'd like nothing more than to sink into the wall and disappear with your ugly, crooked smile. So, needless to say when a woman well versed in working with children with these dreaded crooked teeth looked into my mouth with her little mirror and all she could say was: "Eugh..." My chest filled with the same sensation of wanting to disappear. I hadn't even wanted braces, this was a mistake I wanted out. I tried to joke: "Yeah, it's pretty bad isn't it?"
"Yeah it is...Well I mean I've seen worse but yeah." Was her reply. And immediately I just shut up on myself my mouth closed, my chest tightened, and those were the last words she had out of me, not that it mattered, for the rest of the appointment she only addressed my parents. I was a hideous set of teeth and a paycheck. Delightful.
I made it to the car without crying, but in the back seat I broke down, trying to be quiet as possible, trying to sink away into the seat. I didn't want to ever see that woman again. And I didn't.
There were other interview appointments but I refused to go, any hope they had of slapping the dreaded braces on me flew out the window with one little disgusted "Eugh". So time passed....Surprise surprise my teeth did not improve, and I continued to wallow in selfhatred. Oh the angst of the teenager...
So, what caused the change of heart? And why should you care? Well my dear I'll answer those in order.
Surprisingly enough I am getting braces because of three people, two of which are men who have crossed my path, doing anything because of others is something I regard as stupid and have done pretty much the entirety of my life. What can I say? I'm a people pleaser...The first man was a hurtle in life, someone I had to cross and overcome to better myself as a person and realize who I am, consequently, he too was a member of the crooked teeth club. He understood my plight and my hatred of the very idea of braces. He was also a terrible person and ruined the little confidence I had. Though the two points, I'd like to think, have very little to do with one another. He encouraged my apathy towards my teeth, and anything he encouraged is not something I want to practice.
The second is my current boyfriend, someone who has annoyingly perfect teeth to match his annoyingly perfect personality. I love him and he makes me feel like that girl. You know, the one who is beautiful and lucky and has everything in the world? I'd never been that girl before, not with my crooked smile and especially not with my previous boyfriend. It was while with him that an ad for dental work came on the radio and I began to turn in on myself that he finally persuaded me out to talk about it. Pointing out that I was still young yet (my mantra besides "I don't want them" was "It's too late to get them") and that it would benefit me later in life. So thank you sir. It is with his encouragement that I can move forward with this.
The third person involved is me, because I have always been the one standing in my own way. I was afraid of what other people thought, I was afraid it was too late, I was afraid how long it would take. Well, I'm not dead yet, and I'm ready to get this done.
So that leaves, why should you care? I'd like to think that my wonky mouth can do a little good before it becomes something resembling human. I know I'm not the only one out there, and I can't be the only one to dread the idea of things becoming worse before they get better. You can't ignore it, and you can't wish it away. You're not dead yet, you can change it. I'm not expecting this to be easier than I imagined, from what I hear they hurt with every adjustment, they catch your lips and of course are not the ideal fashion accessory, but you have to start somewhere. This is the road to a better smile, of not being embarrassed of the happy laughing photos caught unexpectedly, of self confidence for once and not shrinking away at the mention of anything remotely regarding teeth. This is the beginning of the road to straight teeth.
So anyways my interview appointment with a non-crazy-woman-in-pink [Non-cwip] 10 in the morning. Wish me luck!
~E
When I was young, as many children often are, my dentist noticed that I had what people like to call "Crowding" which means my mouth was too small for my horse sized teeth. Why would my skull park a metaphorical Hummers in a space where only SmartCars would fit? I will never know, but it was a most cruel trick to play. But, the benefit with children is that they do indeed grow, and they lose teeth like people in casinos lose money. I however, did not. Whether I had abandonment issues or what, I held onto my baby teeth for all they were worth (Two dollars a piece in the tooth fairy trade) which caused only further issues in my already wonky mouth. Adult teeth grew where baby teeth had yet to leave, adult teeth grew in spaces much too small for them, adult teeth grew where ever they damn well pleased and nuts to the natural layout of ones mouth.
Needless to say this resulted in a rather unpleasant amount of crookedness, something people never failed to point out, with that same look like I had somehow offended them with the way my teeth had formed. "Wow! Your teeth are REALLY crooked." Why thank you Great Aunt Muriel, I love you too. And then came the question that thrilled me to no end! "When are you going to get braces? Don't you want braces?"
I don't know whether it was the fact I was born in May and Tauruses are well known for their stubborn nature and contrary attitude or whether it was that pesky first sin of Pride, but in my head I would always scream: "NO! NEVER! I DON'T WANT A MOUTH FULL OF METAL! I'D RATHER DIE! YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE!" and then my mental self would punch the asker in question in the face and jump out the nearest window to escape the fate that was braces. But, being a child and also having a distaste for upsetting others I would smile, close lipped of course, as it would be for a long time after anyone mentioned my teeth. And say: "I don't know."
I don't honestly know what I thought; if I waited and ignored the problem long enough that maybe it would go away, but there they were, in every photo someone happened to snap while I was off guard, in the mirror every morning. I tried to embrace them, they were crooked! So what? Who cares!...I cared. Alot.
Always in my top wishes should genies magically appear before me, "perfect teeth", but I have yet to come across a genie and I am quickly approaching twenty. The subject haunted my dreams, and it's not like I didn't realize braces would help, that they aren't THAT big of a deal. I've had many friends with braces, but I didn't in any way envy them. It was pity I felt, pity and dread that I would be in that situation. They don't even look that bad so I don't understand why I was in such dread of braces, but that's the way it was. I wasn't comfortable with the idea, the end result was something I'd dreamt of, but I just wasn't willing to be ridiculed for something I could control. Crooked teeth was out of my hands, but hell or high water no one was calling me brace face.
Of course those who loved me wanted me in them not to ridicule me but to help, I knew that, but still I was vehement against it. Every time the topic came up my face would flush, I'd feel...Outcast. Like I was deformed because of my teeth, but I was entirely unwilling to fix them, because of the long and tedious process that would turn me into a "metal mouth", and what if, maybe in a stroke of sadism the doctor assigned me head gear? No, no, no it simply could not be done, I would just have to deal with my crooked smile and so would those around me.
But, as parents often do, mine won only a few years prior to now. They'd hounded me enough and started to find me an orthodontist. Hah...Oh this is a good story.
I won't name names but we drove out to an Orthodontist who specialized in children and teens for a interview appointment. She'd take a look and then discuss her rates and how long it would take etc. So we checked in and waited, while we were signing in I happened to look into one of the exam rooms whose door was left ajar. Inside I saw your stereotypical large chair with a small child inside it and a discussion going on between an insane looking woman in about 20 shades of pink from her jacket to her calf hugging heeled boots, and the Orthodontist in a typical white lab coat and serious demeanour. I watched them for a while unable to hear the conversations, pitying the poor boy in the chair for his mother's style of dress, before we were ushered into an exam room ourselves.
I waited in that dreaded dentist's chair in the centre of the room, looking at the various posters which are supposed to put a kid at ease, mixed in with ads for different kinds of dentistry wares. As I was wondering to myself if my mouth was too far-gone to do Invis-align instead of braces the door opens, and I am shocked to see the woman in pink! Hoping desperately that the crazy woman had wandered in by mistake I am stunned into silence as she begins her greetings and reaches for a pair of latex gloves. "Let's have a looksee" She said with a dazzling smile of perfect straight teeth I would have eaten slugs for. For those who have perfect teeth you can't understand what it's like to have a crooked smile, the way it eats away at everything you do. When you catch yourself smiling you stop, scared that people will mock your teeth, you try not to laugh without covering your mouth, it becomes akin to coughing, you might spread your ugliness if you don't protect those around you from it. Even talking in close quarters becomes an awkward event where you wonder if they've noticed, and you wish that it would be appropriate for you to just haul the collar of your shirt up to your nose. And should someone point out the mess your mouth is in, you'd like nothing more than to sink into the wall and disappear with your ugly, crooked smile. So, needless to say when a woman well versed in working with children with these dreaded crooked teeth looked into my mouth with her little mirror and all she could say was: "Eugh..." My chest filled with the same sensation of wanting to disappear. I hadn't even wanted braces, this was a mistake I wanted out. I tried to joke: "Yeah, it's pretty bad isn't it?"
"Yeah it is...Well I mean I've seen worse but yeah." Was her reply. And immediately I just shut up on myself my mouth closed, my chest tightened, and those were the last words she had out of me, not that it mattered, for the rest of the appointment she only addressed my parents. I was a hideous set of teeth and a paycheck. Delightful.
I made it to the car without crying, but in the back seat I broke down, trying to be quiet as possible, trying to sink away into the seat. I didn't want to ever see that woman again. And I didn't.
There were other interview appointments but I refused to go, any hope they had of slapping the dreaded braces on me flew out the window with one little disgusted "Eugh". So time passed....Surprise surprise my teeth did not improve, and I continued to wallow in selfhatred. Oh the angst of the teenager...
So, what caused the change of heart? And why should you care? Well my dear I'll answer those in order.
Surprisingly enough I am getting braces because of three people, two of which are men who have crossed my path, doing anything because of others is something I regard as stupid and have done pretty much the entirety of my life. What can I say? I'm a people pleaser...The first man was a hurtle in life, someone I had to cross and overcome to better myself as a person and realize who I am, consequently, he too was a member of the crooked teeth club. He understood my plight and my hatred of the very idea of braces. He was also a terrible person and ruined the little confidence I had. Though the two points, I'd like to think, have very little to do with one another. He encouraged my apathy towards my teeth, and anything he encouraged is not something I want to practice.
The second is my current boyfriend, someone who has annoyingly perfect teeth to match his annoyingly perfect personality. I love him and he makes me feel like that girl. You know, the one who is beautiful and lucky and has everything in the world? I'd never been that girl before, not with my crooked smile and especially not with my previous boyfriend. It was while with him that an ad for dental work came on the radio and I began to turn in on myself that he finally persuaded me out to talk about it. Pointing out that I was still young yet (my mantra besides "I don't want them" was "It's too late to get them") and that it would benefit me later in life. So thank you sir. It is with his encouragement that I can move forward with this.
The third person involved is me, because I have always been the one standing in my own way. I was afraid of what other people thought, I was afraid it was too late, I was afraid how long it would take. Well, I'm not dead yet, and I'm ready to get this done.
So that leaves, why should you care? I'd like to think that my wonky mouth can do a little good before it becomes something resembling human. I know I'm not the only one out there, and I can't be the only one to dread the idea of things becoming worse before they get better. You can't ignore it, and you can't wish it away. You're not dead yet, you can change it. I'm not expecting this to be easier than I imagined, from what I hear they hurt with every adjustment, they catch your lips and of course are not the ideal fashion accessory, but you have to start somewhere. This is the road to a better smile, of not being embarrassed of the happy laughing photos caught unexpectedly, of self confidence for once and not shrinking away at the mention of anything remotely regarding teeth. This is the beginning of the road to straight teeth.
So anyways my interview appointment with a non-crazy-woman-in-pink [Non-cwip] 10 in the morning. Wish me luck!
~E
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