It’s impossibly challenging having God’s Strongest Soldier status.
There’s nothing more embarrassing than going on a date and having to remove the plastic cast that’s been rotting in your mouth all day. So, imagine my humiliation when my fruit salad arrived but everyone at this Friendly-50s-Yet-Mildly-Racist-Massachusetts-Republican-themed diner decided today was the day they finally start drinking more water. Obviously, I could just tell him, turn my head, and take them out; or even dig through my bag for my liner case, foldable toothbrush, and mini toothpaste, then awkwardly wait outside the bathroom, the door to which happens to be within eyesight of my date.
Naturally, being God’s strongest soldier and all, I ate with them in. Once he started up on “rubber-ducking” I excused myself and picked out the pieces.
To state the obvious, invisible aligners require maintenance. As if going to the communal bathrooms isn’t bad enough, now I have to spend 20 minutes brushing my teeth and liners, flossing, tongue scraping and mouth washing.
Now imagine kissing. Instead of thinking, “Wow, I really like [Insert current obsession]!” or “Wow, [Insert Current Obsession] is terrible at this,” I’m trying to tap into my telepathy to assess whether [Insert Current Obsession] is having their tongue and lips cheese-grated because my incessant teeth grinding has caused holes and jagged bits in my trays.
Many erroneously conclude invisible liners are less painful than traditional braces. But the physical pain is incomparable to the agony you experience when you accidentally throw out, lose or fail to wear your set for exactly 22 hours of the day. With that being said, next time someone suggests invisible aligners, ask yourself: Are my teeth really that bad or are they praying for my downfall?