Ceramic-mouth.

I got my braces on yesterday. Just on my lower teeth, and they don’t extend all the way to my molars. Going to the orthodontist was weird — the place was full of middle and high school students, all of whom appeared to regard me as old and out-of-place. The process was no big deal (I’ve had them before), but the part where they made a cast of my teeth really freaked me out. I gag like mad under such circumstances, and this was no exception. After that, though, it was no problem. I paid extra for the ceramic braces, which are roughly-tooth colored. The only thing that stands out is the wire, though even that’s relatively low-key. Probably because the lower teeth don’t really show much, anyhow. Or so I’ve discovered.

My problem now is that I can’t recognize my mouth as my own. I can’t help but feel like there’s this extra stuff in there that I have to expel. I don’t know how to eat. I mean, I put the food in my mouth and chew, but it’s an entirely alien feeling, one that I can’t seem to reconcile with reality. My mouth is sore from the braces rubbing against my cheeks, and my teeth ache, in a masochistically-interesting way, from the new adjustments. I suppose I’ll get used to this before too long. Right now, though, I can’t get over the feeling that I look like a big doofus.

Published by Waldo Jaquith

Waldo Jaquith (JAKE-with) is an open government technologist who lives near Char­lottes­­ville, VA, USA. more »