It’s what “everyone” is doing.

“Just try it, it will change your life,” they say.

No, it’s not your first trip to World’s of Fun or the beginning of a night you won’t remember tomorrow. The letters, words, and phrases you are about to read discuss an issue far darker, and way more frightening. HIDE YOUR CHILDREN AND YOUR NEALS! I speak, of course, of the phenomena of braces.

Braces were born somewhere, likely in Romania (always those damn Romanians!), out of everyone’s innate desire for perfection. It reminds me of that age-old question: “Which came first, plastic breasts or braces?” (Answer in this month’s People magazine! OMG). I like to imagine that one day, a dentist was having trouble finding clients. This dentist issued a silent prayer that God help him gain popularity. In a dream the following night, God appears to the dentist (not like God-to-Isaac style, or anything cool like that. Big G might’ve even used a proxy. I’m not crazy enough to be able to claim that I’ve ever had God talk to me in a dream, so I can’t comment on specifics.) and tells him that the path to fame and fortune could be found by making once-cute children look like metal-mouthed demons (and nightly prayer, duh). It’s God, so of course the dentist didn’t really ask any questions.

Ever since I was a wee lad in prekindergarten and had an unfortunate meeting between my teeth and a quickly approaching fake wooden stove, I figured I was a shoe-in for braces. Yet, as best as I could, I delayed and delayed the inevitable. Imagine Paula Abdul trying to delay the inevitable destruction of her own minimal career. I delayed until, faced with the possibility of braces forever, I soiled my trousers and gave in.

Personally, I had misgivings about putting a metal fence across my mouth. Fourteen seemed quite young to erect a Berlin Wall across my incisors. Besides, while I might’ve been referred to as Bucky the Rabbit by some, it wasn’t a truly widespread issue. Although some more creative classmates did begin using Land Before Time-based names, like Chomper. The prospect of a better future, however, spurred me on. Nothing hurts more than being insulted with dinosaurs names.

Indeed, the procedure itself was casual enough.

“Would you like me to make you look like a monster?”
“Why yes, I would!”
“Clear rubber bands?”
“YES, PLEASE!”
“Take this knock-out gas.”
“SURE!”

In fact, the first day was pure bliss because of one key reason: I looked JUST like Paul Wall (of Hotlanta fame). In front of every mirror, I practiced my Paul Wall grimace, threw up gang signs, and even spit some mad rhymes (I spit fire, yo!). It’s rumored that my mother was worried enough to call the cops about the ruckus being caused in her house. I, of course, started that rumor, but it’s still a good one.

Then I woke up on the second day to raging pains across my Great Wall of Bolman and realized how wrong I had been. Not only did I not look like Paul Wall, but my rapping skills were shallower, and I’m pretty sure Paul Wall doesn’t eat Applesauce for a majority of his meals. Indeed, I was left demoralized, shoveling all the Mott’s I could get my hands on into my metallic mouth, pessimistically awaiting the year and a half until Reagan would break down my wall.

Well, it’s been about two years, and I’m finally close to that day of liberation. Sure, I still give myself that Paul Wall smile every once and a while, but I’m over it. It’s weird, however, because the braces are trying to convince me that I don’t want to take them off. Two words braces: screw you. For years of unnecessary angst, bad luck, tooth-aches, and frayed toothbrushes, I’ve endured your torment. Your anger every time I attempt to eat a Snickers. The way you mock me ruthlessly when I decide that I want to eat an apple. Your time is up braces! (It should be stated that never before braces did I have erotic fantasies involving the consumption of caramel-coated apples)

Well all of that is good and fine, but I still have to actually get rid of them. Now I’m not just talking about taking them off, that will come in time. I’m suggesting something more suiting for their terrible crime. What is my grandiose scheme? Kill them, like Othello kills Desdemona? (strangling and kissing inclusive) No. Throw them off a cliff? Tempting, but still no. In fact, my plan is simple: I want to melt them down and make a coin with my head on it with the remaining metal.

DUH DUH DUH!!!!

Sure, it’s not as frightening or grand as I intended it to be, but I’m no Napoleon here. I like to keep my plots to realistic limits. Plus, it sets up a bunch of fantastic conversations. Such as:

“Brad, where are your braces?”
“Got them removed last week.”
“You look different!”
“PEEP THIS COIN!”

So, in roughly three weeks, I’ll be free (and slimy, apparently). Is this the beginning of a new stage in my life? I doubt it. Will anything change? Who knows. But there’s one thing I do know: I’ll be brace-face, chomper, Gorbachev’s Experiment, or Fats McKenzie no longer. I’ll be Brad Bolman, something most kids only dream about.

What an arrogant and cliched ending indeed.

Alternate Ending

Brutal Death at Hands of Orthodontic Failure.
KMBC 9 News Report Transcript (Sunday, February 24, 2008)
Repoter: There was a freak braces accident at Hoffman Orthodontics the other day. It seems that an unidentified child was killed during a routine braces removal. He was rushed to the hospital, but there’s no news yet on official cause of death. It’s speculated that an electric power tool severed his vocal cords, allowing him to subsequently bleed to death. Chuck?
Chuck: Wow. That is not way to go. Let’s head over to Nancy for our weather report.
Nancy: Thanks Chuck, we’ve got a cold front coming in through the Midwest…

I almost like the alternate ending better. I sort of go out with a bang that way. Either way, no more braces. Everyone wins. Especially the ladies. *wink*

Alternate Ending 2

Brutal Death at Feet of Pre-Pubescent Girls.
FOX 4 News Report Transcript (Monday, February 25, 2008)
Reporter: A teenaged boy was trampled to death this afternoon mere hours after leaving the orthodontist. We don’t have a lot of information yet, but it seems that before he was trampled by Dionysian girls, Tiger Beat in hand, heels on feet, he was heard yelling something along the lines of “The coin wasn’t worth it.” The funeral service will be this March. A special note from the family: young girls are not currently allowed.

fin.