What Having Braces Taught Me
When I was twelve, I received the news that I’m sure will be familiar to a great deal of teenagers. My dental hygienist’s face fell as she told me “It looks like you’ll need braces.” She quickly added, as she attempted to turn her grimace into a toothy smile, “But it’s not so bad! Braces are cool now!” After hearing apologies from nearly everyone I knew, I wasn’t so convinced.
But luckily, I wasn’t alone in my orthodontic venture. Nearly everyone in my seventh grade class had braces, each relieved to see that they weren’t the only one. A friends’ mom even went as far as telling me: “Oh thank goodness! I felt so bad for her, going into middle school with braces! At least she won’t be alone.”
That didn’t mean that braces weren’t the object of ridicule that they’d always been. I got plenty of metal mouth comments, which didn’t bother me too much. I got a little upset at a friends’ tweet that said something along the lines of how she pitied people with braces because they couldn’t take good selfies (lol). A classmate once described me as “ugly with all that metal on wretched teeth” and that stung a little. I certainly felt pangs of jealousy during a conversation with a friend about braces, in which another friend chimed in to say “My teeth are so perfect that I don’t need braces!” But I could take all that.
What most irked me was the feeling of unfinished-ness because of my braces. I hated the friendly smiles from acquaintances who’d tell me that they’d “been there.” I hated my friends’ status posts that described their smile as a “work in progress” or “under construction.” I hated reading feminist articles that wistfully looked back on their middle school years as the “awkward phase.” I prided myself on being mature and hated the idea that my appearance didn’t reflect that. I wanted to be done with this growing up thing—nay, I thought I was done with this whole growing up thing—and found it infuriating that everyone I knew (and perfect strangers) had the nerve to deem me unfinished based on the metal on my teeth.
But gradually, these comments entered my daily thoughts. I was surrounded with people who were discussing their embarrassment at their younger selves. I started to think about how I would look back on my braces-clad school photos, but not just because of the braces. I wondered if I’d later cringe at my fashion choices, or laugh at my haircut, or look back in horror at the articles and journal entries I’d written. It became more than just the braces. I was concerned my current behavior would embarrass this future version of myself. I was self-aware to the point that I was attempting to challenge the natural course of things by making my decisions based on the needs of my unknown future self.
As time wore on, however, I grew more comfortable and people’s comments became easier to handle. Once I actually stepped back and looked at my life, I realized I had a lot going for me. I also discovered that by even letting those comments occupy any of my head space, I was only proving them right, that I was immature and unfinished. I wasn’t any better than my classmates that worried their metal mouths would spoil their first kisses. I was caught up on the social construct of the awkward phase and was too concerned with somehow embarrassing my future self. What I failed to realize was that I was exactly what I needed to be right then.
Now, five years later, my braces are gone. I’ve changed a lot since I was twelve, but I don’t think losing my braces was one of the key changes. I don’t feel any more or less finished, but I’m pleased to say that besides straightening my smile, my braces have taught me that that’s OK. I am enough.
