I'm getting braces. No, not for my knees. For those pearly whites. My wife, a grad of Baylor Dental School, has informed me that my crooked ways will lead to problems later on. Of course, there's not too much "later on" left, but I've started the process and met with an orthodontist.
I've got a narrow palate and the requisite number of teeth. They fought for territorial rights as they came in; the strong locked into position, the weak were forced to move. Someday, I'll confront my ancestors in heaven and sort this out...somebody has to have been responsible for the genetics that left me with this problem.
It is really weird to be sitting there in the dental chair at the orthodonist's. All along the walls are Polaroids of his patients and none of them are old enough to drive. I'm almost too old to be behind the wheel. I glanced at my chart as Dr. Miller was jotting down notes and in large letters he had written "ADULT" above my name. What an anomaly I must be. I haven't the courage to ask him if I'm his oldest patient. He must be wondering if the wires should be there to straighten the teeth or merely hold them in.
Anyway the wires come on in about 12 days. Should have the job completed in 12-15 months. At which time I'll immediately adopt a toothy grin.