Today I received the news that my insurance had finally ponied up the dough, and I will be getting braces - yes, braces - in three short weeks. I'll be getting these cool new Damon System braces - and by cool I mean ... well ... not cool at all, I suppose, but much more advanced than braces have been throughout history. See, I actually have pretty nice teeth - I'm getting braces for difficulty I'm having with my teeth shifting around in my mouth, which makes them loose, coupled with TMJ disorder. When I tell people I'm getting braces, they look at me like I've lost what little sense I had left. Just this weekend when I was leaving the YMCA, a nice older gentleman held the door open for me, and I thanked him - he said, "How could I not hold the door for a girl with such a beautiful smile." So sweet - I should have known that compliments on my smile would be the harbinger of my date with destiny.
Molly had it right when she compared getting-braces-stories to pregnancy stories - they're both usually horrific, and when people find out that you're either A. getting braces or B. having a baby, they will most certainly have a story to tell you. Go check out Molly's chilling tale of dental horror.
On the bright side? A 29-year-old with braces? They'll probably at least start carding me at the bar again. And I'm old enough that if anybody gives me any shit about my braces, I can hit them without anyone calling the principal.