Brace yourselves

I sat on the bus, post-brace removal (yeaaahhh), holding a copy of Metro up to my face to hide the fact that I was grinning into my camera taking endless pics of myself to send to my mum, sister and best friend. I was very, very pleased with myself. Hello, teeth! Hello, world! Hello, crusty students and kebab shops! Hello, office, even! And I had a small thud of realisation: I so rarely feel just perfectly happy about something, anything. There are many things more momentous than being brace-free: buying a house, an anniversary, getting a job, getting a pay rise, going on holiday, happy things happening to those I love. But I always have an underlying sense of anxiety when happy about any of these things. Will this good thing put other peoples' noses out of joint? Have I made the right decision? Will somebody else lose out because I have gained? The hardy perrenial: what if it all goes wrong? And the inner chant of the neurotic bereaved person: what if, because this good thing has happened, a deadly train of events has been set it motion?  This isn't just because of my loss though; I have always been like this. Distinctly eeyore-ish. Even right now, I've nothing to fret about, apart from the fact that my boss has developed a habit of seizing my notebook when we have meetings and flicking through my notes (as I suddenly break into a sweat at the thought that I might have unwittingly jotted rude pictures/abusive ditties in the margins). But I still have a slightly doom-laden feeling.

But the brace-off! I feel simply happy about the brace-off. Who can it hurt? How can it go wrong now? Who loses? Nobody! (Especially not my orthodontist, £1300 the richer). I just have straight, shiny teeth which can I run my tongue over with the greatest of ease. I'm not certain that I ought to have invited everybody else to do the same at G's birthday party on Saturday. Nobody obliged; perhaps that's for the best. The removal of the brace itself caused a great deal of anguish (a short play about brace removal, in onomatopoeia form: crunch, rip, bzzzzz, aargh), but since then, why, I should advertise for a small flock of woodland animals to dance around me as I sing in a forest, so jolly has it made me feel. I'm vain! It makes me happy!

I will post some photos. But I have to be honest. The new, vainer me is not satisfied with my appearance in the photos taken so far. Either the teeth look great but my face is deranged; or my face is fine and my teeth look huge; or my face and teeth are OK but my dress is falling off. It's a work in progress, kittens. I'll keep you posted.