Sho the dentisht put theshe thingsh on my teetsh......

It takes a great deal of effort to not sound like that when I speak. So much so that I actually refrain from talking. I also now refrain from eating, because my teeth ache when I bite down, and that's if, and only if, I can manage to wrangle these plastic torture devices called trays off my teeth. Once the nibbling is over, it's back to the bathroom to floss and brush, then the trays go back on for several more hours of alignment. And the tiny anchors? Not so tiny! I'm not supposed to notice they are there. Guess what? Noticing them! A lot!

One of the problems is that my teeth are so tightly spaced together they had to use a piece of sand paper floss to free up some space for tooth movement. Flossing. With sand paper. Metal sand paper. That was the point when I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Alas, that was also the point of no return.

I wondered if my dentist hated me because of the sand paper dental floss. I wondered what I had ever done to her. Then she told me to not be surprised if I drop a couple of pounds because of the whole tray removal/eating/brushing/tray insertion cycle. Many people stop snacking because its too much of a hassle to go through all that for a couple of pretzels. Straight teeth and a smaller butt? Methinks I could get used to these things afterall.





P.S. This post marks my 200th entry to this blog. Thanks for reading!