As I stare at the shiny metal lining my bottom teeth, I realize that I’m not unlike any number of children and teenagers who go through this same rite of passage into adulthood. With one huge exception -- I have to wear reading glasses in order to see these braces and have long, long transitioned into adulthood.
The orthodontist’s office staff shared that adults are the worst patients. Apparently we pout more (check), whine more (check), and want prescription pain pills (check). None of these versions of the adult temper tantrum work. Maybe it’s because we actually chose to go down this path of torment and torture. No, it’s not the same as water boarding but it hurts. I am fortunate in that I only have six months of wear to endure, as well as a retainer at night thank you very much. I am lucky in that I have a lot of weight to lose and 10 pounds have already magically melted. Some magic though. It’s easy to lose weight when all you can eat is yogurt, cream of wheat, oatmeal and soup.
One of my friends called on Saturday, and I told him my metallic news. “Braces,” he exclaimed, “On your teeth?” I wanted to say no, on my legs because I’ve been stricken with polio. Of course, I didn’t. I understand his surprise. I’m shocked every time I look in the mirror or slurp down pureed soup.
I’ve been told it will get easier with time. All things do. Perhaps that’s the part of this ordeal that does make sense. Months of suffering to a child may seem forever, but adults know better. Life passes in a blink of an eye. We grieve over loss and trudge through the pain. We overcome adversity and move on. We are the fittest in a modern day Darwinian world and have grown wise enough to live; strong enough to cry; smart enough to learn. Somewhere along the way, we accept who we are and love ourselves first. If it means smiling through braces as hair color and colonoscopy appointments are made, then so be it.
And yet, I am glad to be going to visit my mother this week. She has promised creamy potato soup and a hug. So for a short while, I’ll take off my reading glasses and be a child once again. Glad that I’m not too old to want a warm embrace and will never be too blind to see a mother’s love.
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