Last Tuesday I got braces.
And may I say
They are yet to impress me.
I'm in my 40's, (ok ok late 40's) and I have been putting up with my crooked teeth for most of my life.
Dodging cameras or trying to hide my lopsided nashers when I knew there was no way I was going to get out of the family portrait, wedding photo, birthday photo etc just became part of my life.
Then, when we were blessed with digital photography, I became really good at photoshoping the offending fangs or just deleting any images that couldn't be saved.
However, as I quickly gallump into my middle years, I find that the art of chewing my food is becoming a challenge. Actually it is impossible to chew on the left side of my mouth.
Part of me was happy to just chew on the right side for the rest of my life but the little voice of reason that resides somewhere in my brain told me that it was only going to get worse and if I didn't do something about it now then I was in for major work down the track. I tried to drown the little blighter in alcohol but he kept talking - only with a slight slur.......................
After many months of dentist visits, orthodontist quotes and opinions and looking at different options, I came to the conclusion that the only thing that was not only going to make my pearly whites look photo worthy, but also correct my appalling bite, was braces.
So on Tuesday I finally bit the bullet (or rather train track) and got the horrid things fitted.
I was expecting the usual - teeth would be sore for a few days, I won't be able to eat certain things yadda yadda however..........
Apart from having the odd sensation of conflicting age milestones by applying my anti wrinkle cream at night before donning my reading glasses so I can see that I clean my braces properly, what I did not expect was excess dribble, the apparatus irritating the inside of my bottom lip causing ulcers and more dribble, and lisping!
Yes people - I now sound like Sylvester the pussycat.
And my job requires me to talk
to sometimes very anxious people.
On Wednesday the phone conversations went something like this:
Debs: Good morning Doctorth roomthss
Caller: Oh I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong number, is this the rooms of Dr.................?
Debs: Yethsss it ithss.
Caller: Oh, ok. Do you have any appointments available for next week?
Debs: Yeth, we have Wednethday or Thaturday. Which day is bethsst for you?
Debs: Would you like to come in on Wednethday or Thaturday!
Caller: I'm sorry, I think this is a bad line. Did you say Wednesday or Saturday?
Caller: Ok, could I come in Wednesday please? Do you have any times available after lunch?
Debs: Yeth, we haf thwee thirty or thix pm.
Debs: (sighing) Juthst one moment pleathe. (Puts caller on hold and calls for one of the nursing staff.)
Melitthhssa, can you take thithsss phone call, the perthson can't underthand me.
And so it goes on......
Thank goodness a medical rep came in that day and brought lunch for the doctors which saved me from trying to order a thsamon thsusthi.
And I did have the pleasure of telling one cheeky blighter that if he laughed again I would shower him with a sentence of severe S's.
Today I threw a thickie*...........
(*threw a sickie - Aussie slang for taking a day off work)