This is me six months ago, the day I became a brace-face.
I'll be the first to admit that I'm the most vain person I know. Maybe that's why it took me so long to get braces. I grew up hating my crooked teeth, but the idea of becoming a geeky-looking metal mouth was worse to me than having an imperfect smile.
Finally, this past summer, I caved and scheduled a consultation for braces. My heart sank when the orthodontist told me I would need to wear braces for a year and a half to two years. Somehow I had hoped mine was a special case that would only take a few months. Wishful thinking.
I couldn't come up with a good excuse not to get braces. I thought maybe Mr. Brown Eyes would be opposed to kissing a mouthful of metal every day, but he just shrugged and told me that if I wanted braces, he would support me.
"Even though I'll look like a dork?" I asked.
"You'll be adorable," he replied.
I sighed. If only.
Once Mr. Brown Eyes gave me his blessing, there was no turning back.
So one lovely summer day, I became this:
(Sorry. Now that I've posted it once I can't seem to get enough of it.)
My vanity takes a beating every time I smile into the mirror and see all that metal. Getting my braces put on was painful; my teeth ached and I couldn't chew for days. But the worst part for me was the realization that for two years every attempt at beauty would be futile. It doesn't matter how cute my outfit is or how fabulous my new haircut looks. When I look in the mirror, all I see are those braces protruding out of my mouth like some alien torture device.
Today the orthodontist informed me that I wasn't going to need to have any teeth pulled, but in order to make room for all my teeth in my mouth, they had to push them forward a little bit. "Your teeth are just bigger than normal," he told me. "You'll have to decide if you're ok with the way they look or if you want to have teeth pulled."
All I heard was, "You have horse teeth and even braces aren't going to make you pretty."
Mr. Brown Eyes never misses a chance to call me "Train Tracks" or "Metal Mouth." In the most loving way possible, of course. Today, when he asked how my appointment went, I fully expected a good dose of teasing as I dismally texted him about my "big teeth" and how I was going to have a more prominent smile.
"A big, beautiful smile," he texted back.
You know someone loves you when they accept you for everything you are, horse teeth and all.
Only eighteen months left to go. But who's counting,
The Brown-Eyed Girl