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Braces: The Horror of Rubber Bands


My first braces adjustment was bound to be bad, especially when you factor in that my teeth were still sore from my initial appointment. To really make things fun though, my orthodontist had a new rule for me. I need to squeeze my teeth together as tightly as possible for as much of the day as I can. He has assured me that my teeth will not simply explode from the pressure, but I'm unconvinced.

He's still beating that dead horse that is jaw surgery. Dr. Google seems to side with my orthodontist on this, as my supposedly super-rare open bite can usually only be corrected surgically. But I didn't have an open bite before I got braces!

Oh, and it would really be beneficial if I stopped drinking coffee and green tea. I came home from my appointment with a C on my oral hygiene report. I managed to make the Dean's List at UNM, but apparently cannot handle proper brushing.

The assistant who rewired my braces said that my cheek was too taught and that I needed to loosen it up, all while she was coming at my mouth with giant clippers and pokey things. You loosen up under those conditions.

My orthodontist wanted to know if I hate him yet. I said no, that I understand it's all for the best, that I am not taking any of this personally, and that I will always think he's a nice guy.

Then I woke up this morning with part of my upper lip wrapped around a band.

They're a sick breed, these orthodontists.


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