I am too old for this, I think,
open mouthed, as the technician
affixes tiny pearls to my teeth
where nearly invisible trays will attach,
adjusting my bite a half century after
my parents paid the orthodontist
$1,000 to straighten my youthful
chompers.
Now I am paying five times that amount
not for lovely teeth, but to stave off
the consequences of old teeth, of
unintentional realignment over time
that makes them prone to chipping.
I try not to think of this as torture
as the saliva slips down my throat,
reassured that this process will be
nothing like it used to be, that
my teeth will not ache for days.
I would sit in algebra class—
my throbbing jaw soothed only
by the after-school promise
of a cold scoop of ice cream—
perpetually mystified by
the variables of x and y,
learning instead that a spoonful
of creamy sweetness multiplied
two or three or four times
can make suffering just a tiny bit
more bearable.
Güd wrtr 
Jan:
I have a smiling photo of you, braces and all, from 1973 in your Girl Scout uniform. That’s the image you should share, if you still have it! I’d upload it to you if there was a way. It’s a classic.
Thanks, Terry! You can send it to me at janishaag@gmail.com.
Oh that’s great, Jan! Such a funny photo too. Thanks for being you and sharing!
Transformational Coach, ICF ACC Certified Deep Coaching Practitioner Affiliate Amherst Writers and Artists Writing Group Leader Wildasswriters http://www.janetjohnstoncoaching.com
Thanks, dear Texas Jan! The photo amuses me, too!