Braces

There is only one thing in the world worse than having to wear braces as an adult. And that’s people who won’t give you enough sympathy for having to wear braces as an adult. Oh, they may PRETEND to be sympathizing at first, but that lasts only as long as it takes them to remember some horror story from their youth about their OWN braces. And that usually takes about 3.2 seconds.

Granted, this is human nature. You talk about having your tonsils out, and everyone who had their tonsils out has a story to share about it. You talk about some place you went on vacation, and if people have been there they can’t wait to tell you what THEY did when THEY went (which is always 10 times more fun than what you did, even though the memory of yours is fairly fresh while theirs is STALE). You tell a horror story about how your latest boyfriend stopped the car he was driving on the interstate in the middle of an argument with you and started jumping up and down on the hood of the car, then by golly everyone else that’s had this happen to them tells about it, as well.

But it’s DIFFERENT with adults having to wear braces. I mean, at least one way in which it’s different is that *I* am the adult having to wear the braces. I pitched such an incredibly furious fit when I was a child that my parents just said, “Okay FINE, we WON’T spend $3,000 on your stupid old teeth and you can just pay for it yourself when you’re in your thirties and THEN you’ll be sorry!” At least, this is how I remember it. And yes, the money is a very annoying part of it. I can think of tons of more entertaining things I could be spending $100 a month on (e.g., gooey sweets, jawbreakers, apples, celery, popcorn, peanut butter, ice, etc.).

But the more annoying thing is simply HAVING ALL THIS METAL IN MY MOUTH ALL THE TIME. Digging into my gums. Impressing itself into my inner cheek while I sleep, leaving a painfully deep ridge in said cheek that I have to pry the wire out of in the morning. So anyway, I show up at work all full of metal and self-pity, and do I get any, “Oh, David, how awful to have braces as an adult” lines? No. How about any “How hideous of your evil parents not to have offered to take care of this when you were a child” comments? Nooo. What I get is stuff like, “Oh, god, well when *I* had braces the wires were always coming LOOSE in the middle of the night and just cutting my cheeks to RIBBONS.” And of course they also had to walk ten miles in the snow uphill, both ways, to get to their orthodontist.

And I say, “Yes, I empathize. I understand how awful it must have been, BECAUSE IT”S HAPPENING TO ME NOW.” This, to me, is the crucial part. Yes, the Spanish-American War was awful, but guess what? It’s OVER. My personal war is going on RIGHT NOW, and should thus be the sole focus of any terrifying braces stories. By ANYBODY. So then I say, “The really annoying thing is this bite plate I’ve got in here,” and I’ll be damned if someone isn’t right on it, totally disregarding everything I’ve so patiently (and did I mention painfully) told them, and saying, “Oh, yes, but what about ME? What about when *I* had a bite plate, and me me me me me me me.”

Although, I will admit, the bite plate has been a plus on occasion. You see, sometimes, if I’m getting in a really heated argument with someone, and start talking very quickly, well, then, the bite plate isn’t quite as, shall we say, STABLE as it otherwise may be. In fact, you could say it even becomes so loose that during a crucial point in the argument when I’m spitting out an, “Oh, yeah?” I’m spitting the bite plate out right along with it. And, of course, since this is an argument we’re talking about here, and since the closest thing to me is another person’s face, well you can just imagine where that drool-enrusted little thing is gonna hit.


Now the plus here (Yes, that’s right, hitting them in the face with your slobbery bite plate isn’t even the plus!) is that no matter what you’re arguing about you instantly win because the other person’s response will be either:

1) “Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww” and they will run from the room, forgetting all about the argument. OR

2) To begin screeching hysterically while clawing at their eyes because they’ll believe you’re possessed and are spewing organs at them (did I mention that the bite plate is pink and rubbery?) and the argument becomes the furthest thing from their mind. OR

3) “Oh, wow, you’re into that, too?” (in which case the argument becomes the least of YOUR worries)

Still, this is not enough of a plus, I feel to offset all of the other negatives. Fortunately, I am just a little more than half way through with the treatment. My orthodontist, Dr. Mengele, tells me that the next time I come in, I will be at the end of the first phase, and could lose the bite plate as well as one of the many, many heavy wires damaging my cheek tissue. Unfortunately, this also implies that there is a NEXT phase, and I didn’t even bother to ask him about that. Head gear. Some kind of other hideous “appliance,” which--while I know some people don’t like that term, thinking it’s a little too “heavy” sounding for dental work--I think is the PERFECT term for them. The few people I do find who will give me the sympathy I so rightly deserve, those who’ve never had braces, and can’t IMAGINE how awul it must be, REALLY blanch when they hear about all of the APPLIANCES I have in my mouth and what the next APPLIANCE is I’m going to have put in my MOUTH for me to SPIT out at them during an argument. Poor, poor me.