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.