It's been three days since I had my lingual braces installed on my upper teeth. Three days of painful, uncomfortable, tongue-lacerating, almost impossibly ridiculous torture. And this, I have done to myself. Nevermind that not one person said to me: "Don't get braces! It's not worth it! Remember Miranda!" They tell me that it gets better. Somehow I am supposed to get used to it. But it's going to take everything I've got to overcome the worst new side effect of adult braces: the lisp.
As if I didn't sound gay enough already, now I've got a horrible Drew Barrymore thing going on. But, if Drew can overcome her lisp and effectively affect an East Hampton accent to portray Little Edie Bouvier Beale, then so can I.... Overcome my lisp, that is. Not that I wouldn't mind being Edie for a spell, but it could become a bit boring. For too long a time, I mean... That seems to be my biggest obstacle right now. Trying to reconcile the past and the future. Trying to be in the moment but not be overwhelmed by it. I am desperate to adapt to my current predicament. How much cuter can straighter teeth possibly make me?
I turn 38 soon and I'm thinking that this must be my version of a midlife crises. My little red corvette moment in the sun. My inner teenager thrusting himself to the foreground. My poor tongue! People having been asking me why I chose to get braces now. Frankly, I don't have a very good answer for that. I have always lamented the fact that, as a teen, my family didn't have insurance and couldn't afford braces. At least, that's the memory I am choosing. How awful if we could have afforded it and my parents just denied me a chance to have a pretty smile! I just hate the way my teeth look, I guess. And if these braces do their job, I won't have to worry about that ever again. I told my orthodontist that I want a proper Osmond smile. In the meantime, call me brace face, metal mouth, train tracks, cheese grater, atomic lips, stump grinder or just Terminator.
Here's drooling on you, kid!