I <3 my orthodontist

Alas, the dreaded day has come. I have now joined the ranks of people worldwide who suffer from imperfect teeth and are forced to have metal glued into their mouths. I am a metal mouth.

For those of you who have never had to deal with said situation, that’s wonderful for you. But, unfortunately, not all of us can be blessed with such delightful gifts. And let me tell you, it is in no way a pleasant experience.

Well, that’s not true… I did thoroughly enjoy choosing what color I wanted those weird little bands to be (blue and silver, if you’re wondering).

But, after that it just goes downhill.

Overall, the whole ordeal took over 3 hours. Three. Hours. Now, of course this is not the norm. But, being Sam, things just never go quite how they are expected to.

What’s supposed to happen is pretty simple: they glue some brackets on your teeth, put a wire in them, and do some other crazy things that I didn’t see and so I cannot tell you about them.

But what happens with Sam is not so simple. First, you must spend ten minutes trying to jam this weird contraption into my rather small mouth that I assume is meant to keep my mouth open. Or maybe just to see how far they could stretch my face. Then, you spend another half hour sucking every ounce of liquid from my body via my saliva. Personally, I found that to be extremely unnecessary.

At this point, you are finally able to begin gluing in the metal. But, wait! Halfway through you need to stop because your mom’s brother’s dog’s aunt’s cousin called and needs to talk to you at that moment. It’s okay, I understand. It sounds very urgent. I’ll just sit here, with my face being slowly torn apart and my mouth beginning to grow some cacti because you turned it into a desert.

When you’ve finished dealing with your crisis, you return and are then able to finish installing my metal mouth and at long last my face is able to move back to a more natural position. And then, of course, you need to show me all of the proper brushing techniques to prevent the complete destruction of my teeth. Thank you, I found that rather helpful.

After you complete this in depth demonstration, I practically sprint out of the place.

Yes, I’m finally done! I don’t have to see you again for another two months!

Oh, no. Just kidding.

One of my brackets popped off before I even made it home. I live five minutes away. Quality work.

So, I return and the process is repeated. You take me back in and end up popping off four more of my brackets. Awesome. And then, you say it’s because I have a ‘juicy lip’.

First, what does that even mean?

And second, I greatly appreciate you blaming me and my lips for the undependability of your glue and your ability to use it.

On that note, for the next 24 hours, Sam the hamhanded goat with no eyes who has a juicy lip shall be sitting silently in a corner shaking her head in confusion at the world and wondering why people find these words to be the best to describe her, and her body parts.

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