Technicalities

Despite the fact that my brother and my old college roommate insist that everything is too technical for me, I decided to embrace the 21st century and buy an electric toothbrush. It's so shiny and clinical and it has all these buttons and knobs! I charged the sucker up and was so excited when I turned it on! The high pitched hum! The green glowing LED!


Lord, the thing is too technical for me.


Does anyone know how to use a sonicare? It seems awfully powerful and it vibrated the toothpaste right off of its head, the second I turned it on. I think it's good for my gums, but I haven't figured out how to use the thing on my teeth. Is there a trick to this? If anyone can advise, please do!

I was told by my friends who had worn braces in the past that I would soon get obsessed with teeth--and notice things that I never would have noticed before. I hate to say it, but this is true. I saw The September Issue tonight and both Anna Wintour, Vogue dominatrix extraordinaire and Grace Coddington, Vogue's Creative Director and my new favorite person both had teeth that could have used a bracket or two! I was amazed at the beauty and power that these women represent, and yet, they themselves are not at all picture perfect. I liked this about them, though. My days in magazines have taught me well, that you don't have to look like or live the fairy tale, you just have to be able to know how to sell it.

Talk about selling the dream: I loved this layout from Vogue's Sept. 2007 ish. And look! Inserting images into my blog aren't too technical for me!

And I utterly loved the scene where the model, after her photo shoot, still strapped into her corset like a punked-out Victorian, bit into that chocolate cherry pie with such obvious, honest relish! Oh honey, I know the feeling! I miss it!

I was also utterly amused that, upon exiting the theater, I got a dirty look from two girls behind me who said, "Let's get out of here, there are too many hipsters here" and with upturned noses, they stormed off. Well! Girls! You're in the East Village! What did you expect? And secondly, I'm a hipster? Well, all right! I guess I was lookin' good in my shorts and winter boots! Andre Leon Talley has nothing on me!

That just torques my jaw!

First of all, I am pleased and honored to have been tagged in another blog! And so sweetly, too.

http://kivawa.blogspot.com/2009/08/new-bionic-friends.html

Thanks Miss K!

I have a friend from South Carolina who has all of these great Southernisms that she uses to very eloquently express herself. One of my favorites--which she exclaims whenever she is outraged or fed up--is "Well that just torques my jaw!" I thought this was downright quaint, and wonderfully descriptive. However, it takes on a whole new meaning now that quite literally my jaw is in a perpetual state of torque.

Case in point: This morning, I went back to the orthodontist yet AGAIN. It was feeling too darn tight on the left side of my face after they fixed the wire, and I couldn't imagine that this was right. So I went to see my orthodontist, a dapper man with lovely teeth (of course) an open face, salt and pepper hair, and and an expensive, luxurious silk tie always around his neck. Today it was a white tie with a floral pattern, one that was very popular among the glitterati a few years ago.

He explained that my teeth are constantly moving, and this is why the teeth don't meet properly. He said it's ok if they feel lopsided, because I have a "very unusual crossbite" which has to be fixed. He said that it's a funny situation, but that "you're funnier than most."

A statement like that should have made me shake my fist at the sky and rue my mouth, but really, my doctor is a most benevolent man, and his good-natured way of saying this made me feel oddly proud that my teeth had amused him.

Teeth as court jesters! Imagine that! I'll rent them out to dental conventions! I'll put them on trading cards! Next stop: the Coney Island freak show! There's millions to be made with these puppies!

I Am Not An Animal!

I mentioned before that food is one of my greatest pleasures--and that the fact that these braces have curtailed that pleasure has made me feel small and vulnerable, unsure how to inhabit this altered body of mine. It has been a wonderful side effect that I have lost weight (noticeably, in almost 2 weeks) but it represents a loss of sensuality to me, and I have been a bit mopey about that. I met my friends Louise and Jackie for dinner tonight--lovely ladies who I haven't seen in quite some time. We went to Blossom, a place I chose since Jackie's a vegetarian and Louise is a big ol' foodie like me. The food was great--the whipped sweet potatoes made me think I was enjoying a Thanksgiving dinner and the risotto with peas and artichokes was wonderful--once I got it home and put it in my blender so that I could eat it. (Ah, to spend $20 for an entree of mush!)

But as I was blending, I looked at the takeout container of mini spring rolls that had been a part of the Chinese soup special that I had ordered for lunch. I couldn't bring myself to throw them away, so I took them home with me. And as I blended, I had this animalistic need to gnaw on those rolls like a dog with a bone. I wanted to try using the teeth. Just try! The sauce that they had been bathed in all day had softened them up, and for the first time in almost two weeks, I used my front teeth, my back teeth the ups and downs of all my teeth. I felt food getting caught every which way they could squeezing my teeth even further than the braces, but I was unstoppable--I chomped on that spring roll like a predator on prey, and it tasted damn good. I have teeth! Hear me roar! Aslan ain't got nuthin' on me!

It took me about five minutes to brush and floss all the spring roll debris out of my teeth, and they feel so odd now. That clay-like feeling is back but I think this is a good thing.

That queen of the jungle act is not something you'd want to see me do in public, but it's a start.

In Yo' Face!

First of all, I have to give a shout out to Cory and Mick, who not only read my blog, but read it at the same time in the same room on different computers. THAT is dedication, folks.

Cory and I actually met for lunch today and it took about 10 minutes to explain to the waitress that I wanted soup. Despite the fact that we found many ways to convey this, we unfortunately could not convey this in Thai. If I am an X-men mutant, then Cory indeed should be wearing a cape, (and a most fashionable one at that) because she turned into a Superhero coming to my culinary rescue when the plate of...obviously not soup was set down in front of me. I felt very loved--thanks, C!

I'm having one of those "what the hell was I thinking" days with the braces. A week and a half was enough. Joke's over. Now let me get back to my real life so I can stop thinking about them ALL the time. The distraction, and the tiredness I feel from giving this all my energy has reached a breaking point. I'm sick of soup. I can only anticipate going through this again when they put the braces on my bottom teeth in a few months--and I'm not happy about it.

Now I really understand where the phrase "In Your Face!" comes from. Man, these things sure are in my face.

A few days ago I got this note from "the universe" in my inbox:

The real reason so many have trouble with the baby steps--doing all they can, with what they've got, from where they are, no matter how humble or seemingly futile--is because they haven't yet grasped that the baby steps trigger unseen forces that throw wide the floodgates of unstoppable momentum, infinite abundance, and eternal life. I understand that braces are an oral version of baby steps, and that the molar shifts can only be felt in teeny, tiny ways. I know that look on a baby's face when s/he is old enough to understand, but not old enough to speak, and the frustration that accompanies that feeling, is what I feel right now. I think I have that look on my face all the time. This slow pace is so demoralizing to a New Yorker who is used to having everything at lightning speed. Trusting the process is just not feeling easy or fun or...ah, here's the word, palatable today. If I allow myself to think of me at 38 happy that I've gone through this, that is some consolation. But right now, these things are just too much "in my face!"

Mutant Message

I have a weekly meeting with my boss every Monday morning. Let me start off this posting by sharing the joy I felt when my boss said to me "I think your teeth look straighter already." Maybe she was being kind, but coming from her, it felt genuine. It was my first authentic, unabashed smile in over a week. It made my day!

The whole molars-feeling-like-clay thing was starting to worry me this weekend, and it was a strange revelation when my friend Nicole said, "Call your orthodontist about it on Monday!" Why didn't this occur to me? Why did I feel like I would be bothering him? I mean, I'm paying the man an arm and a leg (and a jaw.) I spent more time than I care to admit steeling my confidence to call him. I looked up dental terminology to present myself properly. I was going to say "I feel like the molar bands on my bottom teeth are too strong for the corresponding top teeth, which to not have molar bands." I wanted to ask why they didn't put bands on my top teeth--I was kind of angry at myself for not asking that when they put the braces on in the first place. I guess I was so overwhelmed with the whole braces concept, I though I has asked enough questions. But apparently not.

Kismet intervened on Sunday night. I accidently dislodged the wire from one of the brackets--a side effect of overzealous brushing. It was amazing to feel just how how much of a difference there has been in my progress in just a week, how just one bracket could make everything completely lopsided and off-kilter, reminding me just how much I medically need these braces. It put things in perspective, and I felt grateful for the braces for the first time.

So, instead of asking my clay-teeth question, I called to the doctor's office to tell him about the wire. I half expected the receptionist to act as gatekeeper, and ask me to MacGuyver myself, to put the wire back in using a paperclip, some twine and a swinging door. But she was completely understanding and asked what time today I'd like to come in so that it could be fixed. It took a full 45 minutes to get to my orthodontist's office from work, and when I got there, the very sweet, 25-year-old looking doctor on duty took less than three minutes to put the wire back in and secure it. In fact, it's tighter than it was before, which is actually nice. Maybe I got an adjustment a little early, which is fine with me if it means these teeth will move faster.

I asked him why there weren't any molar bands on my top teeth, and he very gently said, in his Russian accent, "Well, you don't have any molars on your top teeth."

Yes, it's true. I am a mutant. X-Men, add another to your ranks. I'd like to think of myself as the next wave in human evolution. I knew that I was missing teeth genetically, but I didn't realize they were ALL molars. In fact, according to this diagram, I am missing 7 teeth. (I thought it was 6.) The average adult has 32 teeth. I have 25. (Trust me, I just counted.)

Click on the diagram. See all those molars on the top? Numbers 1,2,3, 14, 15 and 16 DO NOT EXIST in my mouth.

Mom, if you're reading this, that's why you've had to give me the Heimlich maneuver so much as a kid. Also the reason I gave up steak at a young age. Too hard to chew it. I simply don't have enough teeth to handle it.

Could I be the missing link to prove that vegetarianism is truly the way of the future? Get me my cape! Get me my carrot insignia on my chest! Get me my spandex! I am the Green Goddess! Powerful in my veggies!

Well, as soon as I can actually chew them again.

Happy Anniversary!

It is my one week anniversary with braces. If one year anniversary gifts should be made of paper, then the one week anniversary gift is indubitably gelato. I went to Grom which is one of my favorite places to go. Yes, it costs an obscene $5 for a teeny cup, but hey, this was certainly cause for celebration. I decided to be really traditional, and I got the vanilla (which was lovely) and the extra dark chocolate which unfortunately had bits of nibs in it, which I couldn't chew. It broke my heart, but I had to throw it away.

My front teeth seem to have settled themselves, but my molars feel like they're made of clay, maleable, unformed. Even if it was comfortable to chew, I imagine that my teeth will turn into food shaped items that I dream about: popcorn, walnuts or pizza slices. Maybe this liquid diet is turning me trippy. Definitely trippy. If my life was a "tribal love rock musical," I could have this as my theme song (to be sung to the tune of "Hair")

Gimme a fruit to bite, to make my teeth feel right
Shining, gleaming, tasty, juicy, chewy
Give me in my hand, PEAR!
Sweet to my incisors!
Here baby, there mama, Everywhere daddy daddy

Pear, pear, pear, pear, pear, pear, pear!
Bite it, Chomp it;
Round as God can grow it, My pear!

("Eclair" could work in this ditty too, but I don't really like those.)

Oh my. I think I've really lost it now.

Julie and Julia and Bionic Grin

I saw Julie and Julia this past weekend, and it was quite literally, delicious. Meryl Streep as Julia child is adorable, irresistible, captivating. She manages to make herself oafishly elegant while speaking in that should-be-annoying falsetto, wondering what she should "dooooooo" in Paris. She's a woman after my own heart--she starts eating, and doesn't stop, intoxicated by butter only the way an American in Paris can be intoxicated. I watched with braces firmly in my mouth, drooling over the boeuf bourguingon, the raspberry bavarian cream, the divine bruschetta and sole meunière, which Julia lovingly feeds to her husband Paul. I was entranced. I was enchanted.

I was jealous.

This was gratuitous, hard core food titillation, meant to inspire viewers to whip out their wallets to buy Mastering the Art of French Cooking, buy Le Creuset pots, heck, buy plugra butter and lots of it!

If I could have eaten any of it, I would have gladly jumped on the bandwagon, emptied my pockets and filled my face. But as I sit here now with a bowl of mashed potatoes (Yukon golds, my mother tells me, make the best smashies) still with my inability to chew, gumming at the spuds and telling myself that eventually, I too, will eat like Julie. Or Julia. Or that lucky Paul.

As inspired as I was by the food, perhaps I have the film to thank also for starting the blog. It's something I swore I would never do, but the idea of a limited relationship to blogging--only so long as the braces stay on the teeth--is downright cathartic. I've read that one year blog projects are in vogue now--but for me it's simply a way of charting the tumultuous sea of time upon which my raft floats. And there is no way for me to know exactly how long this will take. The orthodontist says two years. I am willing my teeth to move like a desperate high school basketball coach ("C'mon team! Y'all can do it!!") to cut that down to one. At this point, only time can keep that secret and knowingly smile.

With its perfectly straight teeth.

Alchemy All Around

Have you ever noticed that words have a way of following you sometimes? I suppose it should come as no surprise that the words "alchemy" and "alignment" seem to pop up wherever I go, and have for the last month. Yes, the act of getting braces is a transformative experience that seeks to align one quite literally from the top down. A lofty ambition for oneself, but that's little consolation when I spent all day today dreaming about the biggest burger I could create in my head--and the biggest bite I could take. (So much for my vegetarian status for the last 2 years.) A lamburger: Brioche bun, ground lamb, fresh tomatoes, dilled pickles, a bit of lettuce, maybe a little red pepper catsup and some Israeli amba too. (That's pickled mango sauce, folks and it's damn good.)

Is this my alchemy? Is this how I'm transforming? When pushed to the brink, the first place I turn is the burger? The mother's milk of the Average American? Not nearly as lofty as I'd hoped. The New York Times says potbellies are in, so as soon as I get off this liquid diet and indulge in burgers of all stripes, we can all concentrate on my belly and not my teeth, right? Problems solved!

In July I went on a yoga retreat at the wonderful Kripalu in Lennox, MA, and the entire theme of the retreat was alchemy and alignment. Little did I know how much those words would follow me, in the weeks since, how they would come to land like angels on my shoulders and how I would come to physically embody them. The lovely Elena Brower taught me how to stand properly for the first time in my life--to literally let the tips of the ribs scoop up inside the chest to support the heart as the shoulders relax themselves down to create space in the body. I realize that one step beyond this is exactly what I have done by getting braces--to create the space for alchemy and alignment to occur in a part of my body without muscle, without a conduit between brain and willed movement. I never thought that braces could be yogic, but perhaps they are. Anything that allows us to shift from where we are, to the place we need to be is really all anyone ever wants, right?

Hmmm. Feeling a little better about this.

But I still crave the burger. And the ability to chew it.

Meet My Inner Mafiosi

My friend Natalie says that I have an inner Mafiosi named Vinny. He's very handy when someone tries to edge me out of a seat on the subway, or tries to shortchange me at the market. He just throws his weight and his Brooklyn accent around and everyone starts to cower. (That's the best part.) He's also very macho, weighs about 300 pounds and can withstand anything sans complaint.

Vinny is no match for braces.

I figured that I would just let the knives in my mouth make callouses so that eventually I would get used to them and not feel the pain. I scoffed at the wax you're supposed to put on the metal brackets. Shoot, Vinny is tougher than that! Vinny doesn't need no stinkin' wax! Vinny's a Brooklynite! Words like "contusion" do not frighten him!

After 3 days and a meltdown last night, Vinny put on the damn wax. I slept like a baby for the first time in days.

There was an article recently in the NY Times about a mother of three who got braces as an adult and her experience in the first few hours. It was mostly a cry for smoothies and iced tea, but this was my favorite part:

“Do my teeth look straighter yet?” I asked, moaning. I had had braces for about three hours.

This seems about right. I realize that I'm having an entirely different relationship to time, which is kind of a good thing since time has been having its way with me lately. He's been taking things too fast, so in order to preserve the sanctity of our relationship, I had to figure out how to slow things down so that our passion didn't burn out. The braces are making me chart time in a different way. But maybe having him take me on a few more dates might have been a better, less drastic idea.

Via email, I get daily notes from "The Universe" via The Adventurer's Club--little pithy thoughts to keep in mind to put some positive gas in one's tank each morning. I have to say, as I was thinking about time, this one was in my inbox today:

One of the trickiest things about life, is that, at times, it happens so slowly. Yet... if... it... happened... any... faster... you'd... already... have... everything... you... ever... wanted... without... learning... to... enjoy... the... ride. I'm pretty sure the Universe doesn't have braces, but then again, maybe it does. Who am I to say?

I've Gone and Done It Now

I realize I should have started this blog a few weeks ago, as a service to other adults with braces, but my boyfriend and I broke up, and really, that took precedence. Suffice it to say, that this is day three with the braces actually on my teeth and I'm beginning to wonder what the hell I was thinking. Yes, it was this or jaw surgery. Yes, I realize now that I was convincing my friends that I simply liked pureed soups and smoothies, and enjoyed being a vegetarian when really it was more problematic than I thought to simply chew a steak. (Think of kids who say they hate reading, when really they just can't see.)

So here I am now, 36, newly single and with braces. Which I'm supposed to wear for the next 2 years. Let the schadenfreude begin.

I think I've started this blog to relieve my friends from having to listen to me share the inevitable icky feelings that accompany something like this. They've been nothing but wonderful and supportive, but I can't wear out my welcome, since I've already tapped into them about the aforementioned breakup. I've been called "radiant" with braces (that one was pure altruism), "blinged out" (I believe that more) and the acceptable "not that bad." I went to work for the first time today, and was a bit concerned about how the braces would be received, since I work in communications and I'm having a bit of trouble speaking (not much, but enough to be aware.) A coworker kept putting his hand over his own mouth while he spoke to me and asking me if the braces hurt. Not the most encouraging sign.

I have been putting off braces for years because my former employer did not grant dental insurance, so my teeth have gone a bit out of control. I met with four orthodontists, one of whom wanted to break my jaw and reset it. (Needless to say, I decided to pass him by.) My current orthodontist said to me "I've seen a lot of teeth in 20 years, and you--are interesting. My dentist used to look at my xrays like they were porn.

Eating has always been my true passion--my great sensual joy. I could tell you where to get the best of everything in NYC. If I read about it, I went and ate it. I love food writers, but I loved forming my own opinion more. To me, they're merely culinary cartographers, charting the city for me, but I get the satisfaction of putting my own red pins on the map. When my friends came in from out-of-town, I had lists of places where we needed to go to try the best pizza (DiFara's), the best mint chocolate chip ice cream (The Chocolate Room). The best grown up cocktails and trout deviled eggs (Pegu Club).

Now, it's so uncomfortable to chew, and chewing anything takes an hour. I feel like I look like a horse gnawing on apples when eat, so I'm sticking to mushy foods, certainly in public. It's 93 degrees and I'm eating egg drop soup from the local Chinese joint because it's just easier. Everyone keeps telling me that this will change, but we shall see. Maybe that's what the blog is for--to chart the changes and shifts in my thinking about this, as my teeth do their own platetectonics.

I will say that I've found some fabulous recipes online that ease the transition. I like recipes that are quick, quick, quick. Forget Rachel Ray--30 minutes is way too long for me to wait after work. I'm going to post them in the blog--so if you have to be on a liquid diet for any sort of reason, I hope you enjoy these. Regardless of whether or not I had a goth party in my mouth, this is a great summertime recipe--Avocado Cucumber Gazpacho. I got this one from elanaspantry.com, which is lovely, and I wish I could continue making her recipes, but at least I can keep this one:

http://www.elanaspantry.com/cucumber-avocado-gazpacho/

If you've got braces and you're an adult, give a shout out. I know there are lots of us, and I'll post all the things that I find I really enjoy eating lately. I hope you will too. (Even if you don't have braces!)