My mouth is propped open in a way that makes it impossible to form words when the orthodontist who is leaning over me, holding a tool that is emitting a high-pitch squeal, decides to ask me questions.
If I could talk, I would let him know that I live nearby and that “excited” isn’t quite the emotion I am feeling as he prepares my mouth for braces. Braces that I should have gotten as a child. Braces that I had been putting off getting as an adult.
I am a grown woman who, as of a few days ago, is wearing braces for the first time in her life — and it feels good. Well, not completely good. My mouth is sore, and my pronunciation of certain words is slightly off. I can’t yet say “supercalifragilistic” without it sounding like “thuper-cala-frahg-ilisthic.” (I’m told my mouth will soon adjust.)
It feels good because it took me a long time to get here.
For as long as I can remember, my top front tooth has rested at a slant that has made it look chipped. The result: a crooked smile that I have never felt the need to hide with a raised hand or a stifled laugh, but also never been able to fully ignore. If photos are taken of me at certain angles, that tooth stands out, demanding to be seen. There it is in a photo of me after I got married in Nicaragua. There it is in the photo of me holding my newborn son in a hospital in Virginia.
Over the years, I have gone long stretches without thinking about that rebel tooth. Then someone, usually out of well-intentioned concern, reminds me by asking about it.
Did I fall and hurt my tooth? is usually the first question they ask.
Did I ever consider getting braces? is usually the next question.
I am a journalist who asks people to share personal details about themselves all the time, so those types of questions don’t make me uncomfortable. I believe the more we talk about our insecurities and differences, the less insecure and different people will feel in our society. Even so, my response to that second question has usually been to brush it off with a joke. The real answer felt too complicated to share.
We live during a time when it’s easy to feel surrounded by perfect smiles, so much so that The Washington Post ran a piece under the headline, “Have you noticed that everyone’s teeth are a little too perfect?” So why didn’t I get my imperfect smile fixed sooner? The truth: I grew up in a family that didn’t have a lot of money to waste on wants, and it took me a long time to get to a place where I felt comfortable prioritizing my needs.
I’m not sure how old I was when a dentist first suggested that I get braces. Based on childhood photos that show me going from missing my two top front teeth to getting my permanent ones, I was probably about 10.
I still remember the conversation my mom and I had after that visit to the dentist. It was brief. I said I didn’t want braces, and she said okay.
Looking back, I don’t blame her. She and my dad worked hard to make sure my siblings and I had what we needed growing up. We didn’t want for food or clothes or school supplies. But we lived in a working-class neighborhood on the Southside of San Antonio, and our family, like many of the families around us, didn’t splurge without making careful calculations. My mom was constantly looking for discounts to make dollars stretch. At the beginning of every school year, she would take us shopping at a store where damaged and defective clothes went to live, until they ended up in the shopping carts of people who didn’t mind that a brand name was spelled slightly wrong or that a logo was backward. Many funny moments occurred in that store. It’s hard not to laugh when you try on a sweater that has one sleeve noticeably longer than the other.
So, it makes sense that when I told my mom that she didn’t have to spend thousands of dollars on something that wasn’t medically necessary, she didn’t try to convince me otherwise. Once we decided I wasn’t getting braces, that was it. We never discussed it again. Not when I was teenager. Not when I was a college student.
Then I became an adult, and my dental care became my responsibility. Every time I visited a new dentist, the question about braces would come up. Some would suggest it in subtle ways. Others would come to me with prices and plans.
I was in my mid-20s when I decided I wanted to get my teeth corrected, but I couldn’t afford it, even with insurance. I was an intern working at a newspaper, renting a basement apartment and paying off my student loans.
Then, before I knew it, more than a decade passed, and suddenly I was a mom to two boys. They, along with my husband and my job, became my priorities. When my sons were babies and toddlers, self-care meant getting a haircut every six months and maybe squeezing in a nap. I wasn’t thinking about braces.
Now, my sons are 9 and 11, around the same age I was when that crooked tooth came into my life. A few months ago, I decided it was time to give that 10-year-old girl a long-overdue gift.
In December, I met with an orthodontist and went through the process to get Invisalign, which are clear aligners. I then scheduled an appointment to get my teeth ready to start using them.
It was not lost on me that the soonest available appointment fell two days before Valentine’s Day. That timing felt fitting.
