When I was in the fourth grade, I had to get braces... oh, joy. My orthodontist said "You'll only have to wear them a couple of years." HA! That turned out to be a HUGE, FAT LIE! What followed was six years of misery and a mouth full of metal. The headgear...ack! The routine tightening of the braces...ouch! The rubber bands that practically tied my jaws together...what a pain! Hey, wait a second! You don't suppose my mom was in league with the orthodontist do you? They may have concocted that nasty little plan in order to keep my mouth shut! Can you say, conspiracy? ;-) Naw, she couldn't stand the man (or so I was told). ;-) Anyways, I digress...
You know what it took to finally get that fiendish metal out of my mouth? I went into the orthodontist's office in tenth grade during a routine visit and asked, "So, when do I get these things out?"
The doctor had the gall to look at me and ask, "Oh, you want them out? Well, let's schedule an appointment."
"WHAT!!!!!!!!??????" is what I was thinking. Can you believe that? What did he think, that I wanted to wear the stupid things forever? I'm sure he would have been fine with that arrangement since he was getting paid all that time. But why did I have to ask to get them off? Why didn't he tell me I could get them off earlier? I'll tell you why... because HE WAS A CROOK! A CROOK, YOU HEAR ME!!!!!!
Phew! Ok, sorry, I had to get that off my chest.
I swear they'll start a club for anything or anyone nowadays. Well, what about a club for survivors of orthodontia? Where's that club!? Huh? HUH? WHERE'S THAT ONE!?
Oh, by the way, if anyone's interested, here's the address for that article I read: http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,477045,00.html
Enjoy! :-D


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