Adult Braytheth

I had my first appointment with an orthodontist.

Have I mentioned that I'm 39 years old?

I sat in a waiting room with a bunch of mouth-breathing 13-year-olds and wondered if this was my future. Would I be a mouth-breather? Would I curl my lips away from my teeth in what was either a hormonal sneer or a tender-lipped evasive maneuver?

Oh lord.

I'm 39 years old and I'm about to wear braces for the next year and a half.

Have I mentioned that I'm in advertising?

Thank goodness most of my creative presentations are done via the phone thanks to my out-of-state client. But you can still hear a mouth-breather over the phone, right? And I haven't even considered the lisping yet.

Can you hear me pitching a new headline? How about, "Thervice with a thmile!"

Or maybe it won't be that bad? I've never worn braces. Does everyone lisp? The orthodontist also informed me that I'll need to use rubber bands to correct my bite. I'm assuming that means I'll have rubber bands scissoring across my mouth. I seem to recall my sister intentionally shooting rubber bands across the dinner table when we were kids. That could add some excitement to meetings. If anyone says anything remotely annoying, I can just fire off a round of wet rubber bands across the conference table.

*Thwack thwack thwack!*

The account people will be grabbing their faces, confused and momentarily disarmed by an elastic saliva assault from creative.

"I think you need to reconthider thothe creative changeth, my friend," I'd say. Then I'd narrow my eyes and menacingly open my mouth. "Do we underthand each other?"

The good news is that even though I'm not a candidate for the clear plastic Invisalign® braces, I can get clear crystal braces. I prefer to think of them as "designer braces." Mine are called Radiance® and as the brochure assures me, "Radianth ith confidenth."

They're made from "pure sapphire." So basically I'll have bejeweled teeth. Bling, if you will. The brackets themselves should be invisible (from a reasonable distance) and the only thing you'll be able to see is the wire. Allegedly.

In any case, it's definitely better than having a mouthful of metal. And to be honest, I feel fortunate that I have the opportunity to get my teeth fixed at such an advanced age.

*Reaches for cane.*

Before I can get the braces, however, I have to have some work done on my teeth so they're strong enough to endure a year and a half of orthodontic treatment. I've got to swap out my thirty-year-old fillings and have some work done on my gums.

(Some of you just cringed in sympathy for me. For that, I thank you.)

But never fear. There will be a photoblog once I get the designer grill.

All I Want For Buddhakamas* Is My Two Front Teeth

When I was ten years old I ran into a wood chair and knocked out my front tooth.

I also cracked the other front tooth, but it didn't fall out or fall apart. The trauma of the impact also killed two of my teeth. As you can imagine, this one childhood accident has resulted in a lot of time in a dentist's chair. There have been lots of surgeries and procedures, and not enough Novocaine.

And now I'm going to a cosmetic dentist on Thursday to deal with an almost thirty-year-old injury.

To say I'm nervous about it is somewhat of an understatement. I know it's high time I do something about the damage that's been done and the dental work that needs replacing. But I've put it off for so long because my phobia is so strong. I don't know how sensitive dentists were to children's pain 30 years ago. Perhaps my dentist was a sadist? I don't know.

Whatever the case, I've preferred to try and hide my smile for years rather than get my teeth fixed. So strong is my phobia that I cover my mouth when I laugh rather than sit in a dentist's chair. But I'm tired of hating my smile and it's time I do something about it. Right?

Funny how this childhood accident has stayed with me for so long. Even when it happened I knew the seriousness of what I'd done. At ten years old, I was well aware that these were my adult teeth and that I could not grow new teeth. I knew I had ruined my smile for life.

Knew it.

At ten years old I learned regret.

I laid in bed and prayed to god to send me back in time so I could re-do that night. I prayed that I could have one more chance to opt out of playing tag or Ghost in the Graveyard or whatever game we were playing in my friend's basement that night.

I wished with my whole heart to go back and change something that I couldn't. The damage was irreversible and I knew it. Oh, how I struggled with it at ten, and how I have struggled with that self-same issue as an adult.

How many other permanent mistakes/changes/events would I experience as the years went by? Life lessons, all of them. I see my son's same heartache when he breaks a toy. He is quick to ask for the Superglue to fix it, and I so understand that desire — that urgent need to fix it.

And then the day will come when he realizes it can't be fixed.

Or maybe it can? Maybe some thirty years later you'll have an opportunity to fix it. If you're brave enough, that is. I guess I've been torn between accepting myself as I am versus fixing what can (and should be) fixed. I don't think fake teeth were meant to last 20 years or so, and if I want my teeth to last for more years, I need to do something about them. So I've been torn between fear of the dentist, the lofty goal of self-acceptance, and the desire to smile and laugh unselfconsciously.

We'll see how badly I want that smile back.

Although I do have some reservations about looking like Matt Dillon's character Healy in There's Something About Mary. You know, when he misunderstands that Mary likes guys with "big teeth" and he gets a bunch of enormous fake teeth installed?

I don't want to look like that.

*Buddhakamas is an entirely made-up holiday (of my own imagining) in order to satisfy my over-the-top love of Santa Claus, Christmas trees and presents.