The Obvious

teeth

Posted in braces, nablopomo by theobvious on November 12, 2009

Well, there’s some variety in life after all. Because of the limitations on brushing that come from wearing braces, there has been a bit of trouble with my gums, and the theory is that this is relieved by seeing a hygienist. So today was the day (or rather, night – 7 p.m.) when our scheduled meeting was to take place. Naturally, before that time I had to go to work and then a Danish class. All of these activities were accompanied by a feeling of dread and a knot in my stomach; the prospective sensation of someone taking a jackhammer to my teeth is not one that puts me at ease.

Having gotten a bit closer to broke by paying the cab fare, you know, to be on time, we sat down in the waiting room to the sound of drills or water jets or maybe mating orca whales next door. Of course, I was reading a magazine quite nonchalantly and couldn’t care less about the freaky, terrifying noises. However, the magazine was soon finished, and another one, and soon (not soon actually, half an hour later) we were almost ready to flick open the local equivalent of the Daily Mail, when the hygienist came out and said ‘Hi, I hope you aren’t, like, mad for the delay!’ Another quarter of an hour later I was in, only to learn that she couldn’t clean my teeth with the braces on and my gums swollen, so would I kindly come on Monday (8 p.m.) after my braces have been removed and I have spent a few days rinsing my mouth with Very Expensive Mounthwash TM, conveniently available for purchase at the clinic.

If that wasn’t enough for a foul mood, tomorrow is Braces Removal Day and of course I’ve watched enough YouTube videos and read enough Yahoo!Answers to know that it will hurt like hell, smell like crap, be seventeen kinds of annoying, and take two hours. Not to mention the Ridiculous Amount of Money it will cost and the ruined day between the time they remove them and the time I get my retainers and can be free as a bird. A bird with neatly aligned, freakishly slimy-feeling teeth. Possibly with ugly brown glue marks on them. Perhaps I’ll go to bed right now to bring closer the glorious moment when I get to feel that my teeth are being popped out one by one with giant pliers sans anesthesia. And my behest to my non-existent children will be: NO GOOD comes of reading Internet testimonies when you’re already scared. Shiiiit.

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