Backstory

I've got some jacked teeth. I've always been self-conscious about them. When I was 3, I had a root canal on my front tooth and had caps on my baby teeth. I also had a couple sets of milk teeth (that means I've had 3 of whichever individual tooth). Until high school I had extensive oral surgery (I'll ballpark about 6 - 10 teeth pulled) and a spacer to allow my adult molar on my right side grow in properly. For whatever reason, I never had a spacer on the other side and that molar grew in behind the rest of my teeth. I call it my evil tooth. The only other people I've ever met who had it is my mom, who got it pulled when she was 50, and my old roommate, who is in fact evil.

At one point, towards the end of my prepubescent adventures in dentistry, I had an overlap on an eye tooth (I'm guessing that's what it is, maybe it's an incisor - I work in fashion, what do I know about teeth). I remember sitting in my dentist Dr Costello's office when he pulled the lower tooth to let the top one drop in (this was a case of milk teeth). This here is what I lovingly call my snaggletooth. It is also the reason why I hate smiling. 

A year ago, my lovely boyfriend had made a comment that I won't get into because he would just deny that's how the conversation about braces started (plus he's big into privacy, which is the real reason why I won't get into it). Bottom line, he said that he would pay for me to get braces. Defensively, I say, "What?! Are you embarrassed by my snaggletooth?". His response could not have been more the polar opposite of what I was expecting, "Honey, you never smile in pictures". Sweet, huh? Anywho, he meant what he said. 

I slacked off on dealing with the whole dentist thing until this past February. Valentine's Day to be exact. My health insurance offers dental but good luck getting anything but an autobot that asks your zip code and recommends 3 dentists in the same office that never answer their phone. Whatevs, the boy said he'd take care of me on this. So I go to his family dentist, a periodontist who is everything I would want in a 90 year-old Jewish grandfather. OK, maybe 85. I spent the next month getting deep cleanings because I neglected to go to the dentist for most of college/post-college (I went to a real shitty dentist in Manhattan when I was 22 and had insurance from my only big girl job - I am now in the process of getting an onlay for the cavity he filled because it's cracked. Asshole). In July, at a follow-up, I get a lecture about how I need this said onlay and should not wait as long as I have to do it. He makes his recommendations (he gave me 2 other names the last time I was in, but I never bothered calling) and I remind him he still owes me an orthodontist's name. He gives me that of his granddaughter's ortho. Can't go wrong with that, right?

Guess we'll just have to wait and see.