About a year ago, I wrote a blog post called “Oral Torture,” which described the difficulties of making my retainer fit after a long period of not wearing them at night.
As a brief aside – that blog post somehow ended up being one of the most popular blogs I’ve done, and for all the wrong reasons. The word “oral” is in the title, for one. I also facetiously refer to a picture of my fourteen-year-old Ugly Betty picture as “sexy.” You would not believe how many variations of “oral,” “sexy,” and “fourteen-year-old” I have seen popping up the searches leading to my blog.
To which I say – EW. GROSS. NO. LET ME GRAB CHRIS HANSEN SO HE CAN MAKE YOU TAKE A SEAT RIGHT OVER THERE.
A year later, I still find myself struggling with retainer fit, but I believe it’s all for a Good Cause (copyright). There are times I neglect my retainers because – let’s face it – they’re the least sexiest thing ever. Seriously, the only person who would get turned on by someone wearing a retainer would be either an orthodontist or someone with a fetish for metal.
So when I do decide to wear my retainers, my brain is all, “Really? We’re trying this again?”
And even though I’ve been wearing these damn things on and off for nearly half of my goddamn life, my unconscious self is still all, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” and there are mornings where I wake up and find my retainer like, on my window sill, because apparently it still interprets it as a dangerous foreign object.
So Lame Jenny story time here – I don’t know if you all have gathered from my blog at all, but I tend to be an anxious person. Like, for real. I don’t talk about it too much and usually can manage it with exercise and sleep (it’s 12:30 right now, so I’m not getting a lot of sleep tonight YAY!!!). But yes. I can spout off statistics about flying (which is one of my biggest fears) and mortality rates (heart failure kills 1 in 5!) because I have sadly put time and effort into researching these macabre subjects (I’m not even going to go into the times I used to research airplane accident reports WHAT DID I JUST SAY THAT). When I make blog posts like, “Oh caffeine hates me,” what I mean is, “Caffeine turns my mind into a Michael Bay disaster movie and my heart rate increases to like 320 beats per minute and one day we are ALL GOING TO DIE!” Obviously, I avoid it as much as possible.
The reason why I mention my penchant for worrying is I feel like my rejection of my retainer is linked to an irrational fear that I will choke on it at night. Stop laughing and bear with me for a moment. So at some point years ago – maybe late high school, early college – I found myself in the hazy dream limbo where you’re still half asleep but conscious enough to realize what you are thinking. And what I was thinking at that moment was, “I need to swallow my retainer.”
I am totally not kidding about this. My brain really was like, “TIME TO SWALLOW THE RETAINER! THIS IS OBVIOUSLY A GOOD IDEA!”
It only happened once, but the idea that somehow, my scumbag brain was hijacking my dream-drunken self to swallow my retainer freaked me the fuck out and years later, a small part of me remains suspicious of my brain. I know what you’re trying to do, BRAIN. I AM ON TO YOU.
So on mornings I find my retainers on the windowsill, I understand. I am only trying to protect myself from myself, overbite be damned.
Y’all, if I die from choking on my retainers in the middle of the night, it will be the most IRONIC DEATH EVER.
I kind of don’t want to wear my retainers tonight.