So here I am on a bus in London, packing myself to the dentist.
Arguably to have work that needs doing, but feeling ashamed of my own vanity and a traitor to my own punk rock ethos.
I mean what does a punk rocker do when a tooth is giving them trouble? They pull it out.
I guess my fear was that once you start pulling teeth, you never stop and the thought of being a gummy, toothless, hobo looking punker was less appealing than having a face full of metal and judged for being a priss.
Braces aren't very punk rock, but in my experience, girls like teeth, whether they're pointing the right way or not, they just like them to be there. So I've made my bed and I will lie in it. Hopefully with them, but probably not for the next year.
You don't exactly hear women clambering for the 38 year old men with braces. You don't stand at the bus stop and hear "Oh he's fit.. if only he had braces." So, I have emotionally prepared to put my love life to one side for a year.
Still, I feel sick. Maybe it's the motion sickness from the bus, but I know there's a touch of anxiety. Will it hurt? Is this the right decision? Am I doomed to die alone?
You know, the usual rational thinking patterns.
--
I arrive, take a nervous toilet break and start signing the formalities. "Gosh, there sure are a lot of pages of what could go wrong.." I think to myself as I'm beckoned into the office and into the chair.
"I probably should have read that sooner" I think to myself as my dentist engages in light pleasantries.
"All set?" he enquires, "No." I think to myself. "Yes." I respond.
You can really see how wars get started when you narrow human behaviour down to moments like this, as a species we're pretty unreliable when it comes to the truth.
Had I been to another dentist for a check up? Yes, I had, in fact I was in rude oral health and still only have the one filling. I feel like a remarkable man.
We takes moulds of my teeth, this isn't so bad, like wearing a mouth guard, but it really hurts the inside of my lower gums.
My minds harks back to my various dental appointments and being shown invisalign, the popular imperceptible mouth guard type aligners, then being told I couldn't have them because of my "bony protrusions" on my inner lower gums. "Ahh, that's them!" I think as I feel the dental mould painfully press into them.
I can't imagine putting up with that kind of pain and discomfort for at least a year, I probably would have bled the whole time too. I hear the edges are sharp. Clear they may be, but they can cut you.
Then I recall being told I couldn't have clear braces either, "not strong enough" apparently. The world really has it out for me to have a face full of metal train tracks. I can hear the 9:15 pulling up to the station now "Toot! Toot! Chuggachugga chuggachugga."
--
I'm lying back in the chair, trying to play it cool. As cool as you can when you're anxiously laid out in front of another man, I may as well be naked and covered in sushi.
I get to wear one of those plastic things that pulls your lips out of the way to expose your teeth, goody. I also get to hold the suction device in my teeth because there is no nurse.
He comes at me with what looks like a needle and I have a quick panic not knowing that would be required, but it turns out to be glue. Glue which tastes as bad as glue can taste.
I desperately want this foulness out of my mouth and work hard to subtly angle the suction while never swallowing. I am terrible at this and all the while my face is cramping up.
The dentist applies the actual brackets to my teeth and then hardens the glue with a magic light (you heard me). My discomfort in regards to the cramp and taste in my mouth is palpable, but I tell myself it'll all be over soon.. or at least I hope so.
The dentist threads the wire through the brackets and then connects the wire to the brackets using ligatures (look it up). I wasn't prepared for this part, it felt like each tooth was being pinged with a tuning fork. It was also the first time I really felt something as the tightness became apparent as each tooth was attached.
THIS IS QUITE A GOOD VIDEO FOR WHAT THE BITS ARE CALLED
Finally I am free! But I can't spit in the sink, it's broken (I did mention I went for the cheapest quote, right?) so I run to the bathroom to wash my mouth out. I am desperate and cannot describe how horrid that glue taste is. At this juncture I really don't care about the braces at all, I just want to throw up, but after a few frantic rinses I look up into the mirror and there they are, my new braces.
They look how I thought they'd look, metal, inconspicuous like a clown outfit. This is me now.
As I head home, I feel like everyone is looking, they all know and see me for what I am, a 38 year old man with braces. I shudder. I hate it. I feel like whatever lowly rung I was holding in society has just been lowered. I am at once relieved and petulant.
There is no pain, just a sensation of tightness. "This isn't so bad" I think to myself.
Arguably to have work that needs doing, but feeling ashamed of my own vanity and a traitor to my own punk rock ethos.
I mean what does a punk rocker do when a tooth is giving them trouble? They pull it out.
I guess my fear was that once you start pulling teeth, you never stop and the thought of being a gummy, toothless, hobo looking punker was less appealing than having a face full of metal and judged for being a priss.
Braces aren't very punk rock, but in my experience, girls like teeth, whether they're pointing the right way or not, they just like them to be there. So I've made my bed and I will lie in it. Hopefully with them, but probably not for the next year.
You don't exactly hear women clambering for the 38 year old men with braces. You don't stand at the bus stop and hear "Oh he's fit.. if only he had braces." So, I have emotionally prepared to put my love life to one side for a year.
Still, I feel sick. Maybe it's the motion sickness from the bus, but I know there's a touch of anxiety. Will it hurt? Is this the right decision? Am I doomed to die alone?
You know, the usual rational thinking patterns.
--
I arrive, take a nervous toilet break and start signing the formalities. "Gosh, there sure are a lot of pages of what could go wrong.." I think to myself as I'm beckoned into the office and into the chair.
"I probably should have read that sooner" I think to myself as my dentist engages in light pleasantries.
"All set?" he enquires, "No." I think to myself. "Yes." I respond.
You can really see how wars get started when you narrow human behaviour down to moments like this, as a species we're pretty unreliable when it comes to the truth.
Had I been to another dentist for a check up? Yes, I had, in fact I was in rude oral health and still only have the one filling. I feel like a remarkable man.
We takes moulds of my teeth, this isn't so bad, like wearing a mouth guard, but it really hurts the inside of my lower gums.
My minds harks back to my various dental appointments and being shown invisalign, the popular imperceptible mouth guard type aligners, then being told I couldn't have them because of my "bony protrusions" on my inner lower gums. "Ahh, that's them!" I think as I feel the dental mould painfully press into them.
I can't imagine putting up with that kind of pain and discomfort for at least a year, I probably would have bled the whole time too. I hear the edges are sharp. Clear they may be, but they can cut you.
Then I recall being told I couldn't have clear braces either, "not strong enough" apparently. The world really has it out for me to have a face full of metal train tracks. I can hear the 9:15 pulling up to the station now "Toot! Toot! Chuggachugga chuggachugga."
--
I'm lying back in the chair, trying to play it cool. As cool as you can when you're anxiously laid out in front of another man, I may as well be naked and covered in sushi.
I get to wear one of those plastic things that pulls your lips out of the way to expose your teeth, goody. I also get to hold the suction device in my teeth because there is no nurse.
He comes at me with what looks like a needle and I have a quick panic not knowing that would be required, but it turns out to be glue. Glue which tastes as bad as glue can taste.
I desperately want this foulness out of my mouth and work hard to subtly angle the suction while never swallowing. I am terrible at this and all the while my face is cramping up.
The dentist applies the actual brackets to my teeth and then hardens the glue with a magic light (you heard me). My discomfort in regards to the cramp and taste in my mouth is palpable, but I tell myself it'll all be over soon.. or at least I hope so.
The dentist threads the wire through the brackets and then connects the wire to the brackets using ligatures (look it up). I wasn't prepared for this part, it felt like each tooth was being pinged with a tuning fork. It was also the first time I really felt something as the tightness became apparent as each tooth was attached.
THIS IS QUITE A GOOD VIDEO FOR WHAT THE BITS ARE CALLED
Finally I am free! But I can't spit in the sink, it's broken (I did mention I went for the cheapest quote, right?) so I run to the bathroom to wash my mouth out. I am desperate and cannot describe how horrid that glue taste is. At this juncture I really don't care about the braces at all, I just want to throw up, but after a few frantic rinses I look up into the mirror and there they are, my new braces.
They look how I thought they'd look, metal, inconspicuous like a clown outfit. This is me now.
As I head home, I feel like everyone is looking, they all know and see me for what I am, a 38 year old man with braces. I shudder. I hate it. I feel like whatever lowly rung I was holding in society has just been lowered. I am at once relieved and petulant.
There is no pain, just a sensation of tightness. "This isn't so bad" I think to myself.
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