I have two fake teeth.
It's almost impossible to tell, but they are right there in front - my eye teeth. I don't know why I ended up missing so many teeth - sometimes I tell people it's because I was born prematurely, and they "didn't have a chance to develop," even though I know it's complete crap. I'm pretty sure that it's just hereditary and that I basically had no chance for a normal-toothed mouth.
But I
am missing six teeth - four on the top half of my mouth, and two on the bottom. The baby teeth fell out and nothing new came in to take their places. I had no idea that this was a problem, though I should have noticed the glances between my dentist and my mother were almost never positive. (It's probably also because everyone was convinced that I didn't brush my teeth, and I SO DID, MOM. I apparently also inherited my mother's thin enamel, forever plaguing me to cavities no matter how hard I tried to protect my teeth.)
I don't know when my baby teeth appeared and disappeared, but I do know exactly when I started orthodontics: third grade. As if the short stature, the enormous forehead, and the horrible plastic upside-down arm glasses weren't enough, they wanted me to have braces.
Problem: My teeth were not yet ready for braces. They had to be
prepared for the experience. I started with innocent little rubber band
spacers stuck between my molars. It was like having a bit of food stuck between your teeth, and it was beyond irritating. They were meant to create space between the teeth for a future purpose, and had I known what was to happen, I would have stabbed my motherfucking orthodontist in the neck.
Sidenote: I hated my orthodontist with a burning passion. I wanted him to explode into pieces that would later be eaten by wolves and coyotes. Going to the orthodontist almost always resulted in pain and I can't imagine anyone pursuing a career that could result in getting firebombed by twelve year-olds.
(Oh, right. They make assloads of money. Funny, that.)
Once the rubber band spacers had done their worst, the top of my mouth was fitted for a
palate expander. This is exactly as it sounds. Twice a day, my
mother put a little "key" into the expander, turning it to slowly and microscopically push my mouth apart. PUSH MY MOUTH APART. It was supposed to go on for a month or something, so imagine - IMAGINE - my face when I was told that I would have to continue for an additional month. I was trying to shoot fireballs from my eyes, but nothing came out but tears.
I knew that my mom felt awful about causing me pain, but all I really got from her was, "I'm sorry honey. But think how pretty your teeth will be when it's all over!" I mean, she did give birth to me. Maybe it was actually payback.
It's a good thing that I knew better than to hit my mother. After all, she had the key thing. But none of us knew how long this would last, either.
I really thought that I had been through the worst. I was an idiot.
The braces came next, in fifth or sixth grade - I can't remember exactly. I had little metal rings shoved onto my back molars, metal glued to my teeth, and colored rubber bands set in place. Because pink rubber bands make you forget that you look like a freak of nature and that boys will never want to kiss you.
(I didn't have my first kiss until eighth grade. I still had the braces though, so they weren't as much of a deterrent as I had once thought. BUT STILL.)
By this point, they had fashioned fake eye teeth that were then attached to braces. Before then, I had gaping holes where the teeth should be, and let me tell you how attractive THAT was. This was fine, but sometimes they would get loose. After a few months, I was able to flip those teeth on the wire. Backwards, forwards... anything to gross out my parents.
And then...
This is your worst nightmare. It is called a frankel. It is for people with underdeveloped lower jaws, which meant that I hadn't evolved far enough past the Neanderthals, apparently. This was the worst thing that I could have ever imagined. It slowed my speech, I had trouble breathing, and eating was an experiment in futility. I lived in constant fear that I would somehow lose it, and with with my dad's daily reminder of its expense, it was more stress than a twelve year-old needed. I was embarrassed to wear it any other time than at night, and the mean boys in my class had yet another way to make fun of me.
Oh, and I had braces at the same time. Yes.
And let me just interject to say that my orthodontic work dragged on much, much longer than it should have, underdeveloped mouth and all. Their office would refuse to schedule longer maintenance appointments after school, and because I (yes, me - not my parents) didn't want to miss class, I would have to wait until summer or Christmas break for these appointments. I am still livid that they wouldn't help me out, and if my child ever has to go through this, I will find an orthodontist who isn't a complete assface (though - do they even exist?).
So when did I get my braces off? The day before my eighteenth birthday. When did I get the secret retainer with the fake eye teeth? Two days later.
I spent my eighteenth birthday without my eye teeth. At a Matchbox Twenty concert. I also got dumped that night. Yay!
My teeth look absolutely fine now, but I still have that retainer. I actually have nightmares about losing it somehow and having to leave my house looking like a deranged rabbit.
If given the chance to skip classes in middle and high school, just to speed up the toothening? I would do it. That "Perfect Attendance" award in high school lost all meaning once they handed me the certificate anyway.
Bring peanut sauce to a boil and then let it simmer. Now for the main ingredients!
Once the peanut sauce has reduced to a thickness of your liking, pour into a deep pan or wok. Add the cooked rice noodles, chicken, and vegetables. Toss together well. Add the chopped cilantro and mix in. Everything should be coated with the peanut sauce.
To serve, squeeze fresh lime juice over top and sprinkle with additional chopped cilantro and crushed peanuts.
