adult orthodontics

I’ve had braces for over six months. Scratch that. They are not braces; the American Association of Orthodontics officially recognizes my mouth wear as adult orthodontics. There’s nothing wrong with having ADULT orthodontics as a thirty-something year old ADULT, absolutely nothing. However, for the purposes of brevity, I’ll be referring to my adult orthodontics as “braces” for the remainder of this post. But keep in mind they are adult orthodontics through and through. I’ll quickly explain the difference to the uninformed (you). Braces are for children and teens. Adult orthodontics are for adults. Get it? THEY OBVIOUSLY COULDN’T BE MORE DISSIMILAR. Six months into my plight, I am a little astonished that I have not documented the early stages of my shiny oral accessories. Perhaps a six month check-in is appropriate - not much changes during this process. I know, I've stared at my teeth in the mirror for minutes and minutes at a time, hoping to identify some positive movement. Foolish - it's like trying to catch glaciers move. Speaking of glacier, due to the sheer size of my chompers, I was ineligible for Invisalign. I am going hard core. Firstly, the why. Why go through the two-year trauma now? I've honestly asked myself this question for what seems to be about a decade. I don't mean to give away too many deep thoughts within the pages of GreensandBrowns, but I will admit that my teeth have been a source of occasional insecurity throughout my adult life. (Woah, let's back this mack truck of a blog post up for one second. When I refer to "insecurity", it is intended to explain the slightest of the slights. The minorest of minors. I'm sure there are days George Clooney looks at himself in the mirror and ponders, "Am I too handsome? How worrisome..." This is the type of insecurity I refer to.) Thus, with (hopefully) more than half of the rest of my life to live, I concluded that a little vanity detour to correct a petty imperfection wouldn't be the worst thing in the world (more on the worst thing in the world in a future blog post). Onward. I initially had four teeth extracted, the vacant lots in my gums to be inhabited by some of my favorite "big boned" toothses. To start, I wore braces on my molars for five and a half months. I don’t remember too much from the day my orthodontist faceted my teeth with my new metal friends. "Unleash the brackets!" (supposed to be said like "Unleash the kraken!") I do recall however being lifted from my chair and gazing into the mirror at a robot. I looked like half-machine with all of the intricate metal work seemingly growing out of my teeth. But still, these guys rented out space in the very back - I practiced how to speak, how to smile, how to walk the dog with minimal visibility into the real-time reconstruction occurring inside my mouth. I fairly quickly (and heroically) adapted to the dull pain. Chewing, digesting and dislodging semi-masticated food from my gums and braces were an on-going issue. Nevertheless, all of these discomforts were acceptable. Nobody could see the Sims-like city planning within the confines of my mouth. Great! And then the other shoe dropped (that's an idiom folksy folks use when something is going alright, but all the while, you are anticipating that all of that "alright" is going to even out with some "alwrong" or "alleft"). My left shoe dropped about four weeks ago, a one-hour glue session that will terrorize the next 18 months of my life. I am now full cyborg, full brackets across both of my top and bottom teeth. The pain ever greater and at times throbbing, the chewing even more complicated, the cuts in my mouth more frequent. And that's obviously not the worst part, I can't conceal them anymore, my metal frenemies totally visible for all to see (relish).  One month in, I'm finally getting to a point of indifference. But one (I) constantly runs into friends and casual acquaintances that one (I) has not seen in many months. I've deduced that a proactive explanation facilitates the smoothest interaction. Otherwise, this public service announcement becomes tiresomely applicable: I'd like to remind you that my eyes are up here, buddy. I'm certain that you aren't listening to me at all. Dear friend, family member, colleague and/or wife, you are not subtle with your ancillary gaze at my metal monstrosity. My braces are most decidedly not a pair of fleshy bosoms to be ogled. Cue the NBC ringtone...The more you know. More in six months. Thanks for stopping by.