You want to put a what? Where?

             Let me tell you about my orthodontist. Picture this if you will, a bright, clean, newish looking office that comes with a matching well-manicured receptionist possessing long flowing hair and immaculate fashion sense. She also can't stop smiling with her chicklet white teeth. Continue to scan around the room now at the beautiful young dental assistants floating around like concubines for the sheik, all sporting perfectly straight pearly white teeth too. The lot of them are a walking advertisement for the business. The walls are decorated with a surfer motif and there are posh looking pictures of the staff and the orthodontist's family adding to the ambiance. The sheik himself sets the mood for his all-female staff by showing off a big perfect grin supported by the latest in Banana Republic attire.
             Each time I go I feel like I need to dress up a little and change out of my blue jeans, but then I remember, what for? Why would I dress up for an appointment meant to inflict pain? Its all just a shinny facade for the inner torture chamber. That being said, I actually like my orthodontist, as much as a person can like another who is bending their skeletal structure to their will.  Its even one of those places that actually runs on time so there is very little waiting. This last aspect of the orthodontist experience is slightly annoying though, since I am secretly wishing to read my book just a little bit longer rather than have to a seat in THE CHAIR.
          Well this is where I found myself last week- THE CHAIR. After the precursory prep work is done by one of the aforementioned lovely dental assistants, it was my turn to see El Jefe- the boss. I tell him my problem with the bands not seeming to work and he tells me to bite down. He examines my dental imperfections for all of ten seconds and exclaims, your going to need a button. Excuse me- a what? A button? What are you doing putting a button in my mouth? If I push on it with my tongue will it shoot me too the moon? Or better yet will you magically appear with pain medication for my inevitable oral discomfort? Good thing he is trained in mind reading since most of his patients can't talk. He answers my unsaid questions- well except for the one about the moon.  "A button goes on the inside of the tooth to hook on a rubber band and expand your palate. Awesome. More metal work on the inside of my teeth in addition to the braces on the outside. He continues, "You're going to hate it but hopefully it will move this process along." Oh really? Because it sounded kind of nice before you said that. Go ahead, do your worst, I can take it. Five minutes, 1 nauseating acrylic smell and a button later I'm out the door with strict instructions to now wear not one but TWO rubber bands in my mouth. It is 24/7 prescription with both bands situated in triangular fashion to help "fix my bite". In essence they wire my mouth shut when they are both in. As I'm exiting the office I'm thinking to myself, "Why on earth did I get braces in the first place, my teeth weren't that bad. At least not THIS bad." When I tell Zach this through more or less gritted teeth he says "I warned you. Hey, does the button make you a better kisser?" Ha, you wish!  My button and I; mouth fellows for the next ten months or so. Lucky me. stay tuned for the next addition of "Fun at the orthodontist."