Ann
Ipock
Humorist,
author, speaker
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Georgetown
Times
Braces
are only temporary, but cowlicks are forever
By Ann Ipock March
4, 2008
On my neverending journey of self-improvement, I got braces put on last summer. I've been asked why I did this by many curious and well-meaning folks, and I tell them the truth: to straighten my teeth, improve my "bite" and help prevent periodontal problems down the road.
Hubby Russell can tell you it had nothing to do with my ability to talk or eat, though both are a tad bit problematic right now. And it truly wasn't a vanity thing (I promise), since my normal smile didn't show the crooked teeth (they were toward the back).
So when I recently visited my orthodontist, one of the office gals walked over and said, "I just love your hair!" "Oh, thanks!" I said, knowing she wasn't about to tell me that she loved my teeth -- not yet, as the final unveiling won't be for a few more months.
But then she reached over and adjusted the back of my hair. I told her it was really windy outside and thanked her for fixing what I was sure was a wild and wooly mess. But no, it wasn't that. She proceeded to tell me flat out that I had a cowlick! And she just mashed it down, right then and there.
How humiliating -- and frustrating, since you can't imagine how much time and money I've spent over the years trying to disguise my cowlick.
It's funny, but when children have cowlicks, especially in the front, it's darling. Who doesn't ooh and awe over precious little boys, for instance, with the flat-top haircuts that show off one and sometimes two cowlicks? Hey, if I'm not mistaken, I think Baby Gap picks models now and then with that very attribute. Russell had a cousin that as a young boy had three cowlicks. That's got to be a record.
But mine is neither darling nor model quality. Mine happens to be in the back and it causes either a bald spot or a hair wave that is uncontrollable. And since it's located in the back of my head, that means whenever I am seated -- which pretty much includes everywhere like the movies, restaurants, church, the theatre -- I am always worried that my swirly, non-girly, circular, hair faux pas is sticking out and that everyone behind me is having a good laugh.
So when Mary gave me the bad news that day, not just one person heard it, but the entire staff of, say, 12 or so heard it. I didn't really spaz out too bad. In fact, if you know me, I kind of polled the women there to see if they had any suggestions to tame this monster. No, they couldn't help me with that. However, they could give me advice on ligature wire, brackets and elastics (mine being "Black-Footed Ferret"), or rubber bands, as I call them.
And speaking of rubber bands: I now have a set of three looped around several teeth: One set is way in the back, one set is closer to the front and one set goes across the front from my upper lateral incisor to my lower canine.
Honestly, if I smile with the rubber bands in, I do look rather ghoulish. I made a darling blue-eyed blonde baby girl cry the other day when I said, "Hey there, cutie pie!" and I felt horrible.
Yep, I'm feeling like a freak alright: In the front with wire and rubber bands and in the back with a cowlick. At least I know one of them is only temporary.