Old Bagger Brace Face OR Proof that God has a sense of humor…
|Clip art courtesy of CartoonWorks by Ron Wheeler, master cartoonist. This man does amazing work. Take a minute to check out his site. Just looking around is fun!|
Brace Face. Train Tracks. Metal Mouth. Tinsel Teeth. Magnet Mouth. Cheese Grater. Zipper Lips. Tin Grin. And my personal favorite: Jaws.
I am loathe to report that due to teeth-shifting events beyond my control I have been forced to join the ranks of the metal-mouthed. At 50. That’s right, buttercup. This old bagger has a mouthful of metal. Well, okay, not all metal. I opted for the clear plastic brackets; but the wire attaches to the brackets and it is—say it with me—metal.
You know, I delivered three kids without the benefit of anesthesia. That’s right, au naturale from start to finish. So comparatively speaking, the soreness and discomfort associated with braces is no big deal. (Trust me on this one. Labor and delivery is way worse.) How does it feel? Like I’m wearing an extra set of choppers or Billy-Bob teeth, that’s how. My self-esteem is curled into a fetal position at the back corner of my closet for the next 18 months. Even so, I can live with that. What is driving me the most crazy is that everything, and I mean everything, gets stuck in these darn things.
The day the orthodontist wielded his torture tools on me, we went out to dinner. I ordered soup and salad. How bad could that be, right? Between the shredded chicken in the soup and the greenery from the salad, the inside of my mouth looked like a rain forest. Throw in a sloth and a red howler monkey and it would have been a done deal. I learned fast that a meal means “zipped lips until after brushing.” My family has figured that out, too. When they want me to shut up they feed me something.
I know this won’t last forever. In 18 months the braces will come off and my teeth will be happy campers again. But make no mistake, buttercup. It will be a long 18 months, during which time my family and friends will tease me mercilessly, strangers will stare and pity me, and the toothbrush will be my best friend.
And if I find any sloths and red howler monkeys, you will be the first to know.
Off to brush–