CARROT BOTTOM - wherein I look like a fruit bowl or an explosion of Skittles and Fox’s Candies
See the rest of the entry here!
What I drew for Fash Illustration class today. EFFORT, MAN.
I don’t really draw realistic figures (or figures, for that matter) so I’m happy with how this turned out! Pumayat lang yung legs bigla… ayusin ko nalang next time HAHA.
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There are a few precious inventions in this world that you only get to encounter once during your early, awkward, adolescent life. Oftentimes, these are concrete evidences which prove that you are about to embark on the long and winding road to maturity.
Probably first up in line would be the training bra. Also affectionately called the baby bra, it’s the first telltale sign that you are on your way to womanhood! You have graduated from just wearing a white cotton slip with an oddly sewn eyelet hemming to separate your girly bits from the clothes that you are wearing. Congratulations, teenager! (nudges your elbow)
Next would be the pads. The pads. The pads that will make you feel like an infant on diapers. The pads that will confuse you with its own jargon - what is a maxi pad? Why do pads have wings? Do the criss-cross lines on pads really contribute to happier periods? Is there even such a thing as happy periods?
As if you were as clueless as any boy of any age.
Probably, if you were lucky enough (note sarcasm), you might have also endured a few amazing years of wearing braces. For some reason, I remember braces being a short-lived fad in the early 2000’s. I guess the society found amusing how another human body part other than hair (namely the teeth) could have the ability to exhibit and even carefully curate rows of neon colored elastics resting on their surfaces.
I remember having had braces when I was in first year high school. I, being scared of undergoing any procedure that would require doing anything to my body (I cower at the thought of having a blood test. Yes, until now), I was naturally resistant to have braces done. I, in tears, had to be forcefully dragged from my cousins’ house, on to the dentist’s doorstep (it was a few blocks away). Sitting in the waiting room, the air-conditioning drying the tears on my cheeks, I refused to budge when I was being called for my turn. My manifesto was, if I had to live the rest of my life with crooked teeth, then so be it. I am not getting on that dentist’s chair to get braces. I can learn to live with not having any boy or man proposing to me in my lifetime. I am not getting braces!!!!!!
I did get braces.
Of course, my Mom was forceful, and my teeth were hopelessly crooked (thank you Dad, I love you for giving me your teeth genes). I HAD NO CHOICE. I was merely a child living under my mother’s roof! I had to oblige to the person who has been, all these years, nurturing me and feeding me food - food which I couldn’t eat the moment I first got those braces.
Actually scratch that, I do remember insisting on eating Nagaraya (crunchy peanuts) the morning after I got braces. It was Adobo flavored and there was still a pack in the fridge - how could I not?
Since I got them, I was told I had to wear braces for two years max, but since I was terrified of the dentist (I still am, to a tiny extent) I made up every excuse to defer my supposed monthly trip to get my elastics changed. Stupidly, consequently, I had to endure a total of three years wearing them. My fault, I know.
I put up with it like any child without a choice would - which is not to say I liked having it. I hated it, as a matter of fact. In moments where I was just being a normal person with my lips pursed together, the metal on my mouth made me look like I was perpetually sucking a lemon. The monthly adjustments were close to unbearable too, in the sense that time and time again, I had to endure just WATCHING my family pig out in fancy dinners where they eat just about everything (from crabs, to crispy pork), not even considering the fact that I was there beside them, quietly slurping soup. What can I say, they are perfectly sensitive.
The only possible upside to braces is having the luxury of choosing the color of elastics. For the month of January, you might be feeling a bit periwinkle-ish, but come April, you can go ahead and have a color feast for summer with alternating bright oranges and yellows. But despite that ability to change your elastics at will (in a monthly basis), wearing braces still suck for the most part.
Having braces is much like having barbed wire in your mouth, honestly. It’s not very different, if you think about it. You get sores all over your inner cheek from the various sharp metal bits that are poking out of your teeth. You have metal in places that you know isn’t supposed to be there. And every time you move your tongue around, you run the risk of it getting caught in a bracket - possibly impairing a few hundred taste buds along the way.
You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this, now that I’ve long outgrown the pains and perils of being a high-school girl with braces, right?
Apparently not.
Fast forward to the present and I unfortunately find myself in the very same predicament I was in, some nine years ago. Yes world, I am, once again, a metal mouth. A METAL MOUTH. THE STARS ARE EXPLODING SOMEWHERE IN ANDROMEDA WHAT IS HAPPENING. Let us give ourselves a few minutes to mourn over this grave, grave news…
Okay so my molars are to blame, you know. Their sudden emergence have been pushing my other teeth forward, and has contributed to a disruption in my otherwise peaceful life. Last month, I revisited the dentist for what I thought was just regular cleaning. I casually bring up my occasional difficulty in eating because of my growing teeth - just so I could make conversation. I was being polite! Imagine my mini heart attack when she tells me she needed to pull out four of my teeth in the next three months and have me put on braces again to close the gaps. Braces. Again.
I was almost dying then.
So I got them today and it’s quite funny how, right after getting off the dentist’s chair, my sister posits this question:
“Pano ka na magpopose niyan sa blog mo?”
A valid first concern, I must say. We spent a good two minutes practicing my old, scary half smile with my new metal-wrapped mouth, while laughing at how ridiculous I looked. Suddenly, I am propelled back to the discomfort and self-consciousness I felt back in high school, when my braces were new. I was slightly wary while placing my order earlier at Happy Lemon. When the girl at the cashier asked for my name to be placed in the bill, I cringed a bit when she made me spell it out for a second time. I felt like the world is scrutinizing the fact that I was wearing braces, cause it’s like, I wasn’t supposed to, I shouldn’t be.
Straight from the dentist, I attempted eating my favorite beef meal for late lunch to console myself, but instead it felt a lot like torture. I thought I was going to be okay, you know, having undergone this for a second time (LUCKY ME) - but chewing beef with one side of your mouth, feeling like your teeth were foreign and didn’t belong to you - it was difficult. I told my sister, “My mouth feels like a parking lot” - like there’s an annoying number of cars which have forced their way inside of me, and they have decided that they will be staying for a year.
Currently I am sitting here, just hoping and praying that my body gets used to its new set of teeth already. I feel a slight surge of insecurity trying to seep in through my skin, which I am consciously fighting. Already, I feel like locking myself up away from people for a year, so I don’t have to explain to everyone why all of a sudden I decided to get braces, at this age, at this point in time. I feel like a kid being tempered to eat chocolates. I feel like a kid without control. I feel like a kid with unpleasant things in her mouth which, I realize, is what I actually am I right now. And I have to put up with it again.
It’s oddly laughable how braces can bring out a bit of drama in me. :D But worry not, folks! This is something I will get over in hopefully a week’s time, when i can properly eat my beef without feeling a strong sense of self-pity for not being able to enjoy the meal.
Until then, I will be sleeping the pain off and secretly crying in the corner during the family party tomorrow. While everyone is crunching on crispy pata, I will have mushroom soup without the mushrooms. Cause I can’t chew on mushrooms without feeling agonized just yet. :)
P.S. You will NOT be seeing photos of me with braces. You will not! YOU HAVE TO COME TO ME TROLOLOL. So no requests okay =))
