Dinner Gone Wrong

Don’t we all want to be beautiful? Unfortunately, my jaw has always been very narrow forcing my adult teeth to grow in quite crooked. At twelve years old, I hated my teeth every time I looked into the bathroom mirror. I avoided smiling or I placed my hand in front of my mouth. I tried to practice smiling closed mouth with just my lips in a goofy grin for school and family photos.

In junior high school, my mother started driving me to an orthodontist to get braces. Fortunately for me, I often got to miss my first period of school for these appointments. My mouth was so small that the orthodontist threatened to cut my cheeks so he could fit both of his hands into my narrow mouth. I was scared to death of him. Are all orthodontists’ sadists?

After I got married, vanity prevented me from wearing my retainer in front of my new husband. The devise was left in its plastic case forever and after a couple years, case and retainer were lost in some bottom drawer never to be retrieved again.

Many years into our marriage, Rob had one tooth that was moving forward, just starting to stick out a little bit. It bothered him, so he called to make an appointment to see his childhood orthodontist, only to find that the old guy had retired, but his son had taken over the practice. Rob made his appointment with this new orthodontist who suggested a retainer Rob would wear for three months to get the stray tooth back in place and then told him he would simply wear the retainer at night to keep the wondering tooth from moving again. Easy Peasy. It wasn’t even that expensive.

For several years, I hadn’t been very happy with my teeth for they had shifted a lot since middle school, the result of not wearing my prescribed retainer. At age fifty, I made an appointment with Rob’s orthodontist to get a retainer for that same quick fix.

The new orthodontist examined my mouth and announced, “I can get your teeth all lined up neatly in one year of braces.”

I was shocked. “No, you don’t understand. I want that quick fix you’re doing for my hubby. You know, a simple retainer.”

“No dear. That won’t work in your mouth.” He shook his head sadly, but I think he really saw dollar signs.

If my husband was going to have perfect teeth, I also wanted beautiful teeth. Reluctantly, I agreed to a year of braces and a year of payments to the orthodontist. I made another appointment with his receptionist.

After cementing all the metal bands and wires in place, it felt like a large railroad track had been fastened into my mouth. The job of these braces was to encourage my mouth to move against nature. It was much more painful than I had remembered from my early teen years. Soon the insides of my cheeks were swollen, sore, and bleeding causing me a lot of trouble eating. The orthodontist suggested wax, but he added, “Your cheeks will toughen up and get used to the metal in time.”

 He lied. I never formed calloses on the inside of my mouth. I should have bought stock in wax. I ate so much wax that year, I’m sure there still is a wax blob in the pit of my stomach. But I’m getting ahead in my story.

I want to concentrate on a dinner just a couple weeks into these new braces. My husband had an important dinner with his supervisor, and top bosses, at a wonderful Italian restaurant. Perfect I thought, I can order a nice soft pasta dish. At least we weren’t invited to a steak house.

I felt like a chipmunk with my puffy cheeks, but I had to do this for him and his career. I dressed for this special occasion in a beautiful dress. Luckily, my hair turned out fabulous that evening. I spent extra time on my makeup to get it just so, and I wore my best high heels. Maybe all these extra details will distract them from noticing my mouth of metal.

 At the restaurant, Rob introduced me as we greeted everyone. My husband and I were seated in the middle of a big, long table. I selected a nice red meatless sauce to prevent meat particles from getting caught in my braces. I also chose soup over the salad to avoid getting green lettuce caught in my teeth. The meal was served, and everything was going well. After much smiling, conversation, and a delicious meal, I excused myself for the lady’s room.

As I washed my hands at the sink, I smiled horsey teeth into the bathroom mirror to make sure there was no Italian bread caught in my metal appliance.

But to my horror my teeth were covered in bright orange! All the clear wax, I had painstakingly applied to the metal bands at home had stained to a bright orange from the red Marinara sauce. How many of these top CEO’s and their wives had seen my hideous teeth? I was horrified. I dug around in my cute evening bag looking for a toothpick, but of course couldn’t find one. Using a manicured fingernail, I started to pick the ugly orange stained wax off my teeth and braces. Then I had to reapply new wax before my cheeks started to get caught in the wires. Good thing I carried a tiny box of wax in my purse.

When I finally returned to our dinner table, my husband grumbled under his breath, “What took you so long? I was getting ready to ask one of the wives to check on you.”

Can you imagine a top CEO’s wife stepping into the ladies’ room to catch me at the mirror trying to remove the orange from my teeth or applying a new protective coating of wax? That would have been even more humiliating than I already felt.