Back to Braces

Hi, my name is Amy M.C., I’m 33 years old and I am about to undergo orthodontic treatment…again. Why would I subject myself to something so unsightly and embarrassing at my age? Am I so vain (I probably think this song is about me)? Or am I just lame?

When I told my family I was getting braces again, my brother asked if I was going to go back to high school while I was at it. However, one need only look at Exibit A (the x-ray above) to see what has induced me to fill my mouth with metal at my age. Apparently, I am a vampire rabbit.

I first got braces when I was ten years old. A complete hypochondriac (I secretly hoped to break my leg so I could go to school with crutches. Why? Ask my therapist), I coveted braces like other girls my age coveted Dorothy’s red ruby slippers. I would unfold paperclips and pretend I had a retainer. When asked if I preferred clear or metal, I shouted “Metal!” with glee.

Five years, a night brace, rubber bands and constant teasing later, I was ready to take a chisel to my teeth and remove them myself. My eighth grade science teacher actually asked me why I would ever wear braces to begin with. According to him, only television personalities and models should bother—I was draining my parents’ bank account for nothing. I wonder how Mr. K. would have felt if his mother had asked him to “tuck in his teeth” before taking photos, or if being called Bugs Bunny on a regular basis wouldn’t have persuaded him to bite the bullet, despite not being a male model. And male model, he was certainly not (*shiver in disgust at sudden image of Mr. K naked*).

In fact, in one of my more traumatic memories, I was standing at the tether ball court watching a boy play at summer camp. I wasn’t annoying anyone, but apparently my huge gapped teeth were because he sneered and said “What are you lookin at bucktooth!” (Only one was buck?) Don’t feel bad, friends, payback came some six years later when the same boy, now a waiter, hit on me at a party he was working at and I had fun reminding him who I was before happily declining his offer).

So, I was ecstatic when, at age 14, the braces came off and I was suddenly a ravishing beauty complimented continuously for my sumptuous smile (kidding). But over the years, my irksome ivories have defiantly moved out of position, much to my distress. And yes, I am vain – why shouldn’t I be? If you spent your early insecure childhood with buck teeth and a mullet, you’d want to make the most of your “attractive” years too!

So that brings me to where I am today. Having gone to see an orthodontist, where I underwent a humiliating photo analysis, I have decided to take the plunge. I will spare you, and myself, the other photos taken during the session (The horror!) And despite the fact that the dentist told me I could surgically move my jaw forward or take some teeth out to push back my prominent overbite and really prevent me from looking like Eleanor Roosevelt, I am sticking to just a small, 6-month treatment to straighten these wayward fellas out, during which my friends, coworkers and loved ones shouldn’t be surprised or take it personally if I decline to smile.