Later I bared my brace face at the Putnam County Farmer's Market, where the area retirees stock up on their summer produce. This isn't a yuppie affair with canvas totes and moveon.org buttons and leashed golden retrievers. This is where suspender and trucker hat wearing farmers whose white undershirts stretch across their bellies tell you they'll give ya a pounda 'taters or 'maters as soon as their nephew Buddy gets the change for your $20 out of the pick up.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
I'm sporting the braces. Maybe it's because the ibuprofen hasn't worn off and I've yet to see a photo of myself, but right now I'm thinking this isn't so bad. It's almost like getting a haircut or a piercing -- a new look that makes me give the mirror a double take. The almost painless procedure took about 45 minutes. Certainly less traumatic than signing my name to that financial contract. After lunch (at home, thankfully) I passed a mirror to discover that I wore half my salad in my teeth. That's been the ugliest of it.