YFriday, August 1, 2008

WOOOOOHOOOOOO!

Rejoice! Let us celebrate the awesomeness of this day, the 1st day of the 8th month of the year 2008.

I have finally removed my braces.

It has been a long an arduous journey. It began nearly 6 years ago. I'm not joking. Back then I was a wide-eyed innocent little boy (really.) that didn't know very much about the world. I was brought to the dentist's office, because as my mom told me, my teeth were hideous and freakishly out of place. We needed to spend a large sum of money to rectify that problem immediately!

I remember immediately after the installation was complete, I thought, 'Eh this isn't too bad, I'm not in that much pain.' However, within 2 hours, the pain set in. I couldn't even lick my teeth (not that it's a habit of mine) without feeling HELLISH STABBING JOLTS OF EVIL PAIN. That night, I had to chew food with my tongue.

So after a while, I became familiar with the routine. Every month I'd go and tighten... the stuff (that's the technical term), and be unable to eat properly for 2 days. Actually I could have made that into some sort of diet, but sadly, no.

However, after a while I just stopped going. I'm not sure why. There was a period of 6 months when I did not go for a single appointment. Maybe I became emotionally attached to my braces. Or perhaps I was subconsciously trying to resist change. Then there was the possibility of a childish fear of pain. But I think it was probably because I'm just a really lazy dude.

After a while, I decided to get my act together, and went for appointments! Woohoo. Within a few months, I could take off the bottom row of braces! Hoorah! But my top row of teeth decided to be pricks, and refused to budge. A year passed. Two years passed. I had to re-attach braces to my bottom row of teeth to use as reinforcements to pull those stubborn upper row fools down.

Over the past 2 years, my dentist would tell me after every appointment "just a little more", or "two more months", "we are almost done". On the next appointment I would be brimming with hope, my heart aflame with the possibility of freedom from the oppression of metal shackles attached to my teeth. I would then die a little upon receiving the dreaded phrase, "I'll see you next month then. We're almost done."

However, on this afternoon of the 1st day of the 8th month of the year 2008, things were different. He examined my teeth closely, with a look of satisfaction on his face. Very good, very good, his murmurs echoed in my head. Could this be the day?

I was given a choice. My teeth were looking pretty good. I could either wear my braces for a while longer, and make them look even nicer. OR I could take them off right there and then.

I took a moment to look at a mirror, and pretend that I hadn't already made up my mind the moment those words left his mouth. After a minute of contemplative silence, I whispered silently, 'I think they look quite alright. Let's take it off.'

I then danced silently in my mind.

Removing the braces is a wonderful feeling. After years of having to worry about getting food stuck in strange nooks and crannies, wrapping rubber bands around my teeth, and getting massive ulcers, having those metallic bits scrapped off my teeth felt wonderful. It really made my day.

I know this is an insignificant event, but I'm glad it's finally over.

Now my front teeth look massive.

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