2004-05-05 - 11:04 p.m.
Wow. I am free. Not like free from the government, free from school, or "free" from my girlfriend (thank God), but free from the horrible metal "handcuffs", if you will, that have been in my mouth for the past seven years.
That's right, I have just gotten my braces off, and it was not nearly as cool as it should have been.
First off, I was expecting to have the big, cool, high-tech set up with the main orthodontist and all sorts of assisstants and stuff, but what did I get? I got the new toadie-chick with some old pliers and a paper towel. How lame is that? She didn't even tell me what she was doing. She just acted like she was about to take my wire off or something, and the next thing I know there's a huge "POP!" and I feel my entire tooth practically rip out of my head. God, I hate that lady...
Second, I was disappointed that I didn't at least get a pat on the back or something from my old orthodontist. You see, when I started there, I had Dr. Tarsitano. Now, he's trying desperately to retire, but still has a few of his old patients lingering around, myself included. However, throughout this whole horrible ordeal, we have always pretended to like eachother: he's pretended to not hate me for not wearing my rubber bands, and I've pretended to not hate him for being a bastard; it all works out. But on this special day of days, he completely ignored me and had his replacement take them off without hardly looking at me. How FUBAR* is that??
And last but deffinetly not least, I had to write my parents a "thank you" letter. Yes that's right, Thank You. I'm THANKING my parents for all of this. I swear to God, it was all I could do to not laugh. It went as follows:
Dear Dad,
Thank you for all of the great times I've had the past seven years. Thank you for all the cut lips, blisters, and bloody gums for the past 2555 nights. Thank you for all the corn I couldn't eat on the cob and every Tootsie Pop I couldn't eat on the pop. Oh yeah, and thank you for paying to have my teeth fixed when there was nothing wrong with them in the first place. Or was there...I can't remember that long ago...
Love, Zach
*FUBAR: It's German. Only four people will understand that. Go ask your parents...
