After yesterday’s rapture-laden blog, I think it’s only right to inform you that today my mouth hurts like the son of a motherless goat.  (If you are not familiar with the pain a son of a motherless goat feels, well, just trust me.  It’s a genuine hardship.)  It hurts to eat, it hurts to think about eating.  It hurts to talk, it hurts to think about talking.  It hurts to talk about eating, and it hurts to think about talking while eating–which I shouldn’t be doing anyway, but I’m just making a point.  Ouch.

I’m beginning to think that it maybe wasn’t the world’s smartest idea to schedule a quadruple-premolar extraction four days after getting my braces on, but there’s nothing that can be done about that now.  I have decided to approach it from the childbirth perspective.  First you go into labor, which sucks; then you actually deliver the baby, which hurts even more.  But then it’s over.  Except for the healing, of course.  But I have three full weeks to do that before my next orthodontist visit.  There are women who go back to work in the fields before that!  So, yes, my teeth and I hurt, but we’re taking the long view.  NO PAIN, NO GAIN.  Also, KNOW PAIN, KNOW GAIN.  (Puns: they aren’t just for Jesus anymore.)

Initially, when I showed Mister Bubby my braces, he ran away screaming.  I think that was mostly for dramatic effect.  Later, he told me that they made me look like a teenager.  “That’s a compliment, in case you were wondering,” he said.  I think I actually come off like a 40-year-old desperately trying to look like a teenager, but it was a sweet thing for him to say.

Last night I told Princess Zurg that I could now fully empathize with her orthodontia-related pain.  She said, “Well, I know this is hard to believe–but it does get better.  In the meantime…try to take your mind off of it.”  She was really sincere.  That was what made it so adorable.

Elvis keeps saying, “Mommy has braces.”  Then he makes like he wants to touch them.  Actually, I’m pretty sure he does want to touch them.  He reaches for my mouth and then stops and says, “Don’t touch the braces.”  That was my first clue.  I think I’m interpreting it properly.  Ever since he started losing his baby teeth, he’s been talking about big teeth and little teeth.  He’ll list all the family members who have big teeth.  “Mommy always has big teeth.”  It’s true, I do.  According to the orthodontist, I have beautifully shaped big teeth–they’re just in the wrong place.  Anyway, Elvis is very intrigued by the braces.  “Braces are for big teeth.”

Girlfriend is simultaneously amused and freaked out by the braces.

Sugar Daddy has not yet seen the braces.  He’s been in California for the last couple days.  He was supposed to come home last night, but he was wait-listed for the flight, and it was full, so…I’m making this sentence too long.  Anyway, he’s supposed to fly in this morning…right about now, actually.  Along with President Obama.  Not on the same flight, but, you know, same general time frame.  I don’t think they will run into each other.

So tonight SD and I are supposed to go out and see a play.  We were going to go to dinner beforehand, but I don’t know what I would be able to eat.  Basically, anything I have to chew is out of the question.  So maybe we could go someplace where they serve soup.  And by “soup,” I mean bisque.  We’ll see.  Maybe we’ll just go out for dessert instead.  Someplace that serves pudding.

Aside from the pain, there is just the weirdness of having all this metal and stuff on my teeth.  I have figured out how to drink from a cup without spilling it down the front of me.  That wasn’t too difficult.  I can’t seem to get used to the sensation of having stuff affixed to my teeth.  I’m used to trying to remove stuff from my teeth.  Teeth are supposed to be naked (aside from their protective enamel, of course).  I daresay I have brushed my teeth more times in the last 24 hours than I have all week–which, considering that I do brush my teeth regularly, is probably something (and probably isn’t helping the pain issue, although meticulous dental hygiene is crucial for orthodontic success)–but I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve got food stuck in there somewhere, particularly around my molars, because I just can’t see a thing back there.  I’m sure it’s just the braces, but I’m also paranoid that I’m missing some organic matter that is going to rot my beautifully-shaped-if-ill-placed teeth.  Oh, well.  All I can do is brush and floss, brush and floss.

Technically, I have only been brushing and waterpicking, because flossing is like this huge production now that I have to get behind the wires.  They have these floss-threaders that you use to get behind the wires, and if you think that flossing is a pain in the neck with naked teeth, let me tell you, it takes about four times as long to do it when you have to use a floss threader.  The orthodontic assistant demonstrated its use on my teeth yesterday before I left; unfortunately, she chose to demonstrate on my bottom front teeth, which are extremely crowded, and the floss threader being thicker than actual floss, blood started gushing forth from my gums before she even got the infernal tool through the barely-existent pathway.  Okay, that was hyperbole.  The blood did not “gush.”  It merely trickled.  But there was a lot of trickling, my dears.  A lot.  So yes, the waterpick.  That is what I’m about.  I’m still getting used to it.  It’s very easy to forget to turn it off at crucial junctures and end up waterpicking your face and clothes and entire bathroom.  That’s an adventure.  But my teeth and I love an adventure!

I just remembered that I don’t have any wires on my molars yet because they’re waiting until after the extractions to do that.  So I guess I will go floss my molars now, while I still can.

Then there are some little things that I used to take for granted–like putting lip balm on my lips and then rubbing my lips together.  Can’t do that anymore.  Not painlessly, anyway, or not without using my hands to pull my lips over my braces in order to rub them together, which just seems like more trouble than it’s worth.

None of this should be interpreted as anything less than PURE EXCITEMENT over having my teeth fixed.  FINALLY.