Can I Have a Straw With Those Mashed Potatoes?

My friends, the time has come. This morning, I stared up at flourescent lights for an hour while El Orthodonto fitted little Brackets of Torture to my teeth. I walked out of his office unable to stop moving my lips over the new Braces. And I was pleased. I actually did it. I rarely REALLY follow through with any big plans I make, so this was a big deal. And I thought, cool...I have Braces.

Now, about twelve hours after their installation, I am wondering what the crap I was thinking. What monster talked me into this ridiculous intstrument of Pain? I'll admit, I have a pretty low Pain Threshold. I'll whine about papers cuts and flu shots for days. But this? This is something that the Russians would use on James Bond. Something that the Evil StepMother would have done to Cinderella. Something that Paris would do to Nicole. Because y'all, this SUCKS.

El Orthodonto gave me some wax to make it bearable. You're supposed to put it on the sticky outy places to make it more smooth. Well, you could create a life-sized likeness of Mariska Hargitay with all the wax that is in my mouth right now. On top of that, I can't eat anything. No crunchy foods, sugary foods, gummi type foods, or Starburst. This long list of no-nos knocks everything out of my ordinary diet except steamed beets and brown rice. And honestly, I really don't like either one of those things. So for lunch, I had yogurt through a straw (I tried the spoon, but it tapped against my teeth once and I felt like I had been struck by lightning and repeatedly kicked in the face by an angry angry Bull) and I can't wait to see what semi-liquids I'll be able to force down tomorrow.

I am looking forward to a peaceful night sleep (with the help of some wonderful fantastic Tylenol PM) and a terrible day tomorrow. Think of me as I teach America's future with swollen lips, a mouth full of wax, and a pretty noticeable lisp.

El Orthodonto

I have embarked on my grand Journey to the Land of Metal Mouths, and let me tell you, it's awful. I had my initial "Hi, let me tell you how much of my vacation you're going to pay for" meeting with the Orthodontist. (turns out, I will be paying for his airline travel, half of a condo, and five tickets to Walt Disney World). First, they yanked (quite literally--they have yanking tools) my mouth wide open and took some photos of beautifully crooked teeth.

I then sat down with El Orthodonto while he talked to me about things like my Open-Bite Tendency (which explains why I eat everything I see), some scary something about my gums during which I zoned out because I don't like talking about my gums, especially when it's scary, and how I will be in those delightful mini-rubberbands for two and half years. Folks, I can hardly contain my excitement.

So I went back a few days ago to get my "impressions" made. Many of you who read have had braces, so you know the nightmare that this seemingly "quick and easy" procedure is. First, the chick puts me in the chair and tells me to do all the swallowing I need to because I can't swallow when the mold thing is in. Now, why on earth anyone would say that, I don't know, because when she put the bubble gum flavored goop on my teeth, my brain started screaming, "Swallow! Swallow! SWALLOW IF YOU WANT TO LIVE!" So I swallowed eight times during the impression, each time making that gross noise your throat makes when you swallow with your Mouth in the evil grip of the Yanking Tools. The impression lady was less than amused and pity-laughed at my despair. But I knew, inside, all she could think about was how badly she needed to swallow.

Let Me See Yo' Grill!

Like most people, Middle School was one of the most agonizing times of my life. Between my Chili Bowl haircut, chunky physique, and tendency to wear Flannel shirts and Stonewashed jeans, it was just plain terrible. Because she didn't want to put me through therapy to get over my Middle School experience (and because she didn't have the money) my mother opted not to deal with my incredibly crooked Teeth back then.

Since then, my Teeth have been getting more and more twisted. So, my friends, I have declared war on the ever bothersome crooked Smile of mine. Since I don't look enough like a fourteen year old with my elvishly round face, 5'3" frame and periodic acne outbursts, I have decided to get braces.

I am looking forward to the adventures to be had with Rubberbands, Expanders, Headgear, and whatever else they throw at me, so brace yourselves (pun totally intended) for the fun times ahead.

Kansas

"What happened? I thought you were going to Trenton for dinner."

"Well, we were about half-way there, but we had to turn around."

"Why?"

"There were cows in the road."

"Cows? Are you serious?"

"Yeah. A lot of them. Just standing in the road. They weren't moving, so we ordered pizza."

"That's hilarious. I feel like we live in Kansas somewhere around 1874."

"Well, we kind of do. Except for the pizza."

The Plague

In recent weeks, a disease has swept across the better part of North Texas without mercy. My Family (including an extra aunt and cousin) spent a Somewhat Merry Christmas freaking out about why the Chicken Enchilada Casserole hadn't been started yet and who unplugged the Lights for crying out loud, that jerk across the street is totally outdoing us, and we have a Reputation to protect!! Then we frolicked in the Kitchen until our hands were sore and our frustrations were intolerable, and enjoyed much Unwrapping and Ridiculously Frivolous Eating.

After a few days of digestion and waiting for the excitement of the new Wierd Tool for Egg White Extraction to wear off, we had a family Wedding to attend. In the middle of the service, right as we were beginning Holy Communion, my Aunt stands up (I thought to rush the Altar and get first dibs on the Bread of Life...I was wrong) and excuses herself. I soon learned that the Evil Stomach Virus has made her digestive system very angry. Luckily, the Wedding was what some would call "swank," and the restroom at the reception place had a freaking Couch. Not like the couch-like structures at Starbuck's, a couch that puts the one in my living room to shame. And my Aunt curled up in the fetal position on the couch. In the bathroom.

Before long, my Step-Dad was complaining of somach cramps, and it became all too apparent that this Evil Stomach Virus would get you if you were within 2 miles of someone infected. And it got all of us. And most of the world. We went through two bottles of Pepto Bismol, eighteen cans of Seven Up, and four Saltine Crackers between the family.

The Plague rose up with a vengeance in me just after a Cavity Filling. My friends, it is not a fun situation to be afflicted with a Stomach Disorder when half of your face is numb. I won't elaborate, but you can picture it. After losing seven pounds and going to the restroom a record ninety-seven times in forty-eight hours, I managed to eat a Bowl of Lucky Charms. And it was delicious.