Tray Two. Out of who knows how many.
My feet propped up on the edge of the reclined dentist's chair and my mouth wide open, Dr. Vo tried to snap in my second set of trays.
I say "tried" because that's what was happening. For what seemed like several moments. Because what was NOT happening was those things actually fitting onto my Chiclet-sized teeth. Those little suckers just were not wanting to snap on. I should have known then just how tight they were going to be.
And then finally, the * S N A P * heard 'round the world. My dentist, her hygienist and I all about jumped a foot in the air as my top tray finally (and loudly) clicked into place.
"Yeah, that thing's NEVER coming off," I thought to myself.
The bummer deal was that I'd last had a granola bar at like 9am. Now that it was knocking on 3pm, I was definitely getting hungry. But you're not supposed to eat with the trays in, and those trays weren't going anywhere.
So with blood sugar levels plummeting, I got desperate. I gummed at some soup with my trays in (a look that had to be attractive) and committed what is, in my book, the cardinal sin: I went to bed without brushing nor flossing. For reals. It's what we'll discuss at my next therapy session.
The next day I spent 10 minutes trying to get the top tray out. Like, JUST the top tray. I gave up and was like, "Whatevs. I'll just eat and brush my teeth again sometime this summer." Later that day, I had both of my hands crammed into my mouth, desperately trying to pry those puppies out. 15 minutes later? One pop, and then another. SUCCESS!! I ate enough to feed a small country--you know, just to tide me over until my next meal--and then brushed and flossed the ever-loving heck out of my teeth, just in case I never had the opportunity again.
A few days later, my family was out for a quick bite after church. I told them to go on in and order for me while I stayed behind in the car to take out my trays. After several fruitless attempts to remove the trays daintily or with any sort of decorum, I went for the full-on-both-hands-shoved-inside-my-mouth approach, like the jaws of life were trying to extricate someone from a mangled wreck. Little did I know, there was a man standing outside his vehicle who happened to be witnessing this horrifying little event. His reaction went a little something like this (Hit it!):
It's sure to be the topic he'll discuss at his next therapy session.
On the upside, there has been NO pain with these trays. And little by little, they're loosening up (which means my teeth are moving. Yay)! I can now get both top and bottom trays out within about 30 seconds.
Sigh. My smile had darn well better rival Julia Roberts' glistening grin at the end of all of this.
All for now on the way to the perfect smile...
Thea
Her radiant face lights up my TV screen. She beams as she files papers at work, and laughs with friends at a birthday party.
And her teeth are spectacular.
I'm jealous.
"And with Invisalign, no one will notice you're on the road to straighter teeth!" the commercial proclaims.
Sold. I'm in. I'm 37, and not exactly looking to endure a 2-year train track journey.
A few weeks ago I started the Invisalign process, and it's been hard enough, easy enough, lispy enough, and laughable enough that I feel compelled to share.
Set of Trays Numero Uno popped right in without incident. My sweet dentist smiled and said, "You're all set!"
"Thank you tho muth!" I replied, kind of alarming myself.
Ah. So there's gonna be a lisp. Fun. Do I have to pay extra for the speech impediment?
And gosh darn it...come to think of it, they never had that woman actually *say* anything on that Invisalign commercial. And for good reason, too. If the beautiful actress had said, "Invithalign really workth. You've jutht got to try it for yourthelf!" nobody would ever sign up for it. So instead they made sure she stayed niiiiice and quiet, just filing that paperwork and smiling pretty.
I had a heck of a time trying to make my follow-up appointment at the front desk.
"Yeth, that date thoundth fine. February Thixteenth."
"No will notice!" Really? Sure, I suppose. As long as everyone in your life is A.) SUPER-DUPER unobservant and B.) thinks you ALWAYS sound like you've got a grapefruit in your mouth while you're talking, then sure--no one will notice.
So, yeah. Day One was fine. My husband made a few "Sylvester the Cat" jokes about my lisp, but that didn't hurt NEARLY as much as the raging canker sore that developed underneath my lower front teeth. And the thing kept trying to heal--it really did--but the bottom tray snapped right over the top of it and, holy agony, did THAT hurt--like, every time I put the tray in or took it out. For about 10 days. I even left my trays out for a whole day to give that thing a chance to heal, and used a file to smooth down the bottom edge of the tray. That seemed to help.
By the end of the 3 weeks, my bottom tray was so loose I could easily pop it out with my tongue. Top tray was easy to get in and out, too. The canker sore had healed, and I was getting the hang of speaking with it in (so now it sounds like I only have a smallish orange in my mouth when I talk--Score)!
On the upside, it really cut back on snacking since you can't eat with the trays in. My teeth are sparkly white from being brushed and flossed incessantly (which I pretty much did anyway even before Invisalign).
Thufferin' Thuccotath....what a process!
All for now on the road to the perfect smile... :)
-Thea
