You've Had Other Problems?

What about the cavity though? Why are you so bad at storytelling, Joan? Was there not a chain of events here or is it all just asterixes and rambling with you? Why must we run around the room, picking up fragments, in order to understand you ?

Ah, yes, The Cavity. After the dentist had viewed my x-rays and had finished being all fanboyish about my Iron Man Tooth, I meekly inquired about the pit:

Me: So, um, I think maybe I have a Giant Cavity on my tooth there...
Dentist: Where exactly?
M: *I am very alone in this cruel world - a mute in a universe of deaf people* Right up there, in back.
D: Oh, huh. *picks at it with the Mini Scythe of Judgement* Nope, that's not a cavity.
M: Uh, but... it's a huge black hole and it if you look closely, you can see it scowling at you.
D: Unh uh, that's just a pit for now, a "pre-cavity"; as long as you take better care of your teeth, it'll be fine :)
M: *what infraction have I committed to receive such punishment* Oh? Really? That's... that's great.

Yeah, that's the Happy Ending of my tale; the part where I drag my fingers down my face and yell at the Heavens: "Soylent Green is people!" "There was never any cavity there at all!" while I gnash my teeth and roll around on the ground.

But at least I'm not bitter! I may feel unduly put-upon and feel like I get the short shrift all most of the time but dammit I've got a song in my heart and a smile on my formerly messed up grill!

Tell me, Little Dove, do you like tales of Teeth That Would Make an Englishman Feel Self-Conscious? Because I have another. Do sit down, won't you?

Robot Mouth

Now, I have yet to work this next group of genetic circumstances into my "Theory of The Missing Link; That Is to Say, I, Joan Crawford, am Special, Just Let Me Explain*" paper I am furtively working on but I am sure I'll think of something**.

As a child I had what would be described as, in today's nomenclature, a Fucked Up Grill. It was exceptional in it's dysfunction. My two front top teeth were essentially completely overlapped, my bottom front four teeth were so crowded they formed a strange cutting plain of evil, completely out of harmony with the general curve of the rest of my bottom teeth. Strangely, there was plenty of room in the rest of my mouth (as was illustrated by the gaps between my other teeth) but my teeth just never chilled the hell out and distributed themselves evenly. I remember there was this boy, Ryan the Bastard, as he was known (to me, afterwards), who I was really in Love Forever with when I was 9. We would race his remote controlled cars, pour salt on slugs (only a couple of times and all on the same afternoon), and shoot arrows over his house at each other (as much as we could get away with). He was something special and one day I worked up the courage to tell a friend to tell her friend to mention it in passing to Ryan's friend that ~**~**I liked him-liked him**~**~ the next time they spoke.

His Response

"She has a good personality... but her mouth is bad.***"

Let that soak in.

That is pretty much who I was. A funny little girl with a mouth that made people recoil and then feel pity. Until my teeth were fixed and then, a few years later, I got boobs and suddenly Old Joan ain't so bad an option after all.

But it was true. Not only were my teeth rioting about having to be anchored to my gums but my lower jaw was not at all doing what it was supposed to. She was hanging out, lazily, in back and messing up my speech patterns. My whole Oral Situation was so messed that getting braces was not considered cosmetic but Medically Necessary as it was affecting my breathing as well. And thank the gods for that because I wouldn't have been able to get braces if it weren't for Dr.Dynasaur. - May the Seven*4 bless them.

Finally, by the time I was eleven, I had lost all of my baby teeth and was ready to begin my Orthodontic Odyssey. First up was getting my teeth to not be all on top of each other anymore and so I had to get "spacers". I am not sure why they came up with a unique name for them, because "spacers" are just the little rubber bands they decorate braces with - only now they are inserted between your teeth to get them to spread out. The pain is interesting. A slow, steady reminder that things will get better but it's going to be a long, long time. I was case where they introduced remedies piecemeal, much in the way you only show a person 3 baggies of heroin at a time to swallow instead of all 45 at once - it must be done gently so as to not to induce psychological trauma.

After the slow, tectonic plate-like shifting of the teeth, I was ready for my Jaw Expansion. I was fitted with a Metal Spider on the roof of my mouth. The four legs connected to two teeth on each side of the top of my mouth.

Here is some poor woman named Brandy displaying her 

Spider of Sadness for you. Don't you turn away!

Look at it! Look at it!

Each night, I would lay down on my bed and my mom would insert a key into the belly of the spider. This would unlock a delightful World of Pain in my head as the legs of the spider would expand incrementally. Then you go and cry at your ugly teeth in the mirror while your body goes into overdrive trying to figure out how to combat this torture: "Throbbing pain? Bleeding? Fever? Crippling anxiety? What should we do to make it stop!?" the little people who live inside your body and control things will yell.

This went on for some time. Months and months. Imagine eating with that thing skulking about. Does food get caught in there? Is is hard to talk? Is it obvious that you're weird?

Yes, yes and yes.

Next up were the actual braces. This wasn't too bad, actually. I remember a girl on my bus when I was 8 (an older, badder girl, if you can imagine) one day was using a Bic pen to pop off her braces. Can you imagine? Unless I had already signed up with the Circus (I want to be the Fat Lady, because I have an aversion to manual labor and human touch) and was sure my parents would never see me again, I could never have done that. But there she was *snap -- snap -- snap*. "I'm sick of these damn things", 13 year old Jennifer said. I cried on the inside about the fact that her mom would kill her, but her mother was a wisp of a thing (and she alone knew of the Evil Deed she did to beget Jennifer) and seemed okay with it. I know this because she said "Okay, Jenny... if you don't want them, I can't force you." Which was a concept that was utterly foreign to me. You did what your mom said just like how the sun rises. It just does and so does you. (Why do I slip into Backwater Kentucky Girl from the late 1800's so easily? I need to join Community Theater and get it out of my system. "Tomorrow is anotha' day!" I'll proclaim, bordering on weepiness while remaining steely in my delusional resolve, while the director yells "Goddammit! This is Macbeth! For the last time, you are here to get water for the AK-TORS!")

So that went pretty awesome, considering I got alternating purple and teal rubber bands on my teeth. It doesn't occur to you when you are 12 that these colors aren't meant to be seen on human teeth; they just make you feel pretty. Then came time to reckon with my lower jaw. I wasn't aware of the fact that my receding jaw was an issue or that it made me look "simple". But it did and not only that, it made me a "mouth breather" as well.  I told you it was bad. At least I have an excuse for mouthing out my words while reading until I was thirteen*x5.

Required to fix this were the Pistons of Shame. In order to make my stupid face operate in a manner that was not offensive to humanity, I needed pistons affixed to my braces. They attached on the top outer teeth to the front lower teeth in a manner that would facilitate the jaws meeting appropriately.

There are the pistons I miss so much! This is very similar to the setup 

I had, only my bottom anchors were two teeth farther forward.

You know, to make sure everyone can see them.

I had a hard time finding that picture as they mainly just use rubber bands to coerce the jaw into not being an idiot. I was a special case. Now, I am not sure what in the hell is up with that model mouth up there but I do know that when I would open my mouth too wide (in laughter or more commonly, to eat a giant fistful of Doritos) the piston would slide out of the tube completely or worse, it would catch on edge and my jaw would be stuck open (with wasted Doritos falling on my shirt), as far apart as it could comfortably go, until I could run to the bathroom and desperately try to open my mouth wide enough to get the parts back together.  Which was a slippery, shameful business, as you might imagine. It's a panic, a terror, I hope never to experience again.

I remember being in 7th grade and liking the boys that all the girls liked ("Yes, he was mean to me but he's soooo cute" and "Yes, he was mean to me but he's soooo funny in class and everyone else like him") but being at a distinct disadvantage in a number of ways and not being "a girl who boys like".  I, right now, am reliving a scene when I had to get up to do a presentation on Japan... all the boys in my class stuck their tongues over their teeth to the front of their lower lips, while keeping their lips closed,  to mimic the bulge my pistons made at the front of my mouth. It was mortifying but I had to keep it together so I could get my damn "B" and get out of there. I had a "boyfriend" in 8th grade but he was actually just my best-guy-friend who thought he'd try to feel me up... our affair didn't last long. I remember, vividly, being a Freshman in high school and telling my BFF that I liked an Older, Cool Guy and then finding out he liked me back. I, of course, fell desperately and pathetically in love with him - as only a 14 year old can. But that's a whole other kinda-sad-but-mostly-funny story. 

After 3 years(!), I was finally done with braces. They were removed and things were shining and straight for a time... until I lost my retainer... which we could not afford to have replaced. It's too much pressure on a kid, I tells ya! My upper jaw has remained large and vicious and my teeth (except my front top two which still slightly overlap - you can't fight love) remain mostly straight and thankfully, my lower jaw does her damn job at last. But I have an overwhelming affinity for people with messed up teeth -- "I too am of the Fucked Up Grill Tribe", I yell to them, only to be reviled for my desperate attempts at acceptance.

Stay tuned for "Smoking and Cherry Bombs -- Oh Shit, Here Comes Mom"- an 9 year olds tale of adventure!

* But you don't even know which words to capitalize in your title! 

** I always do!

*** Not the first, nor the last, time I heard that. 

*x4 GoT reference! You know who I have the Major Hots for? The Girl Knight! Woohoo! You can swear fealty to me any day, you sexy beast. 

*x5 truthfully, my hatred for reading was instilled in me by an Evil Teacher I had in first grade and she had a Diabolically Sweet name too - Ms.Rainbow. Can you get over it?

**Ignore this Empty Space that Blogger insists I keep here for whatever reason**