Sandra
There was a cool breeze blowing through the open window when I first woke up. It was still early; the sun had not yet cleared the trees as I lay in the bed, reluctant to start the day, content to listen to the quiet sounds of the morning. I dozed for a while and then finally, regretfully, I pulled myself out of bed and went downstairs to make myself some coffee.
The last few days had been hot and now the cool tile of the kitchen floor felt good against my bare feet. I started the coffee brewing and leaned against the counter, still reluctant to wake up. I had not bothered to get dressed; I still had on the shorts and oversized T-shirt that I liked to sleep in. As I stood there waiting for the coffee to finish, I contemplated the day ahead of me.
Actually there was nothing on my schedule. Ever since my marriage to Jonathan, life had been very carefree. His position and salary was more than sufficient to take care of both of us and very soon after the wedding he persuaded me to quit my job.
I had not really been looking for a husband to spoil me - I was quite capable of taking care of myself - but I had been working in a high-pressure brokerage firm for the past few years and was about burned out. I decided to accept his offer, if just for a little while, and then decide later whether I should go back to work. That was nine months ago and I was still enjoying the unemployed life.
The coffee maker finished it's job and I went to pour myself a cup, sitting down at the kitchen table. On the table was an envelope with "Sandra" written across the front in Jonathan's handwriting. I tore open the envelope and removed the single sheet inside, my eyes filling with tears as I read the note.
Sandra,
Had to go to Europe for project of mine that is in trouble.
I will probably be gone for at least six months. I will contact you
when time permits.
You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you.
Love, Jonathan
I kept looking at the note, hoping it would say something else, but no matter how many times I read it, it still said the same thing. My coffee forgotten, I sat back in my chair and stared at the small garden in the back of the house.
Soon after our marriage, I learned it was not uncommon for him to get called away for one of the many projects that he designed, but usually there was some advance notice of some kind.
Six months!
Feeling frustrated and a little angry that he did not wake me up to say good-bye, I started to wad up the note to throw it away. There was something else in the envelope. Hoping that it was another note from Jonathan, I quickly unraveled the envelope and extracted the other item. My heart sank when I saw that it was just a reminder card from our dentist for my appointment.
I looked at the date and time and realized in a panic that it was for today. More truthfully, it was for 20 minutes from now! I leapt out of my chair and hurried back upstairs, throwing my night-clothes off as I ran. Throwing on a pair of jeans and another T-shirt, I grabbed my tennis shoes and purse and ran out to the car, driving barefoot and already speeding before I got out of the driveway.
The dentist was across town, and I knew that there was no way that I could get there on time. This was especially frustrating because if it was my old dentist, I could have gotten there in five minutes. I had never been to Jonathan's dentist before now, and couldn't really understand why he had insisted that I switch all my records over. Especially since I rarely got cavities and the only dental work I usually needed was a cleaning.
Amazingly enough, I hit all the lights green and was able to pull into the parking lot only 10 minutes late. I slipped my shoes on and ran into the high-rise building, searching frantically for the directory to tell me where the dentist's office was. The eighth floor. I was finally able to catch my breath as I waited for the elevator to arrive at the appropriate floor. The building was like any other medical building; you knew that there were people here because of the cars in the parking lot, but there was not a soul to be seen in any of the hallways.
I arrived at the right office, bursting through the entrance, barely noticing the sign on the door that said "R.S. Gordon, DDS - Cosmetic Medicine & Dentistry." There was no one in the waiting room except for a bored looking receptionist on the other side of the smoked glass, sliding window. She didn't look up from her work as I went up and signed my name on the patient sheet and then sat down to wait.
There was the usual collection of out-of-date magazines arranged neatly on the coffee table. I just finished flipping through last months Time when the interior door opened and the receptionist called out my name. I followed her through the door and down a short hall to a windowless room that was barely large enough to hold the dentist's chair.
The receptionist had me sit in the chair, instructing me to wait for the dentist. I looked around the room in vague curiosity and quickly regretted not bringing one of the magazines with me.
After an indeterminable length of time, I heard the door open behind me. I twisted around in the chair to get my first look at my new dentist. She was a tiny woman, no more than five feet tall, and about 50 years old. She had that no-nonsense look that I remembered so well from the ancient teachers at boarding school.
"You haven't been to this other dentist in over a year," she said, looking disapprovingly at my chart. "Well, when I talked with your husband last night, he mentioned that you were a little cavalier in your personal health."
I knew already that I didn't like her. And I especially didn't like that she and Jonathan had been talking about me behind my back.
"Well, we'll have to start from scratch with you," she said.
What followed was a miserable morning spent with my mouth open as the dentist poked and prodded and x-rayed and even took impressions of my teeth. And then when she was done, she sicced her dental hygienist on me to clean my teeth. They were definitely more thorough than any other dentist that I had gone to. I probably should have been more appreciative, but by now, my eyes were sore from staring into the bright lamp, and the muscles in my lower face were almost completely numb from holding my mouth open the entire morning.
Finally it seemed like they were all finished. She left the little room for a moment, returning with a rack holding what I assumed were x-rays of my teeth, clipping them to the lighted panel.
"Your teeth look pretty good," she said without turning from the x-rays. "But it looks like you have one cavity that we need to take of." She pointed to a dark spot on one of the x-rays and I pretended to see the cavity. "We'll just take care of that now, and then you can be on your way." The dentist smiled for the first time, and before I had a chance to protest, she had pulled over a long hose with a small face-mask on the end. "I prefer to use twilight sleep instead of Novocain," she said. "I don't like to use needles if I can avoid it, and all my patients usually prefer this method."
She slipped the mask over my head, fitting it over my nose and pulling the rubber strap tight to hold it in place. She turned a knob and I immediately started smelling a sweet fragrance in the mask. Quickly, my head started to get light and I could feel my muscles grow limp. Suddenly feeling panicky, I tried to lift my hand to pull the mask away and discovered that I could not move at all. I stared up at the smiling form of Dr. Gordon.
"Well, that didn't take long," she said. "I'll be right back and we can get started."
I sat there staring at the wall until she returned. There was really nothing else I could do; I was totally paralyzed because of the gas. I was a little confused by the twilight sleep. I had never experienced it before, but I had always heard that you were almost totally unconscious and were oblivious to what was going on around you. But this was different; other than the fact that I could not move, I was completely awake and still had the use of all my senses. I started to panic again when I realized that this meant I could still feel all the things that the dentist was going to do to my teeth. I tried to yell, but all that came out was a slight gurgle.
The dentist came back in pushing a cart full of stainless steel instruments. She pushed it up next to the chair and then sat down on a high stool.
"It looks like you're about ready," she said. "Actually, I guess I can tell you now that you really don't have a cavity." She picked up a small, wedged shape piece of rubber and inserted it into my mouth, pushing it between my back teeth on the left side. "Remember, I told you that your husband and I talked last night. Well, he said that you have such a beautiful smile, - and now that I've seen you, I can agree - but that your teeth were a little crooked. We decided that a period of orthodontic treatment was necessary." She inserted another wedge between my rear teeth on the other side, effectively holding my jaws spread far apart. "He also said that you might be a little uncooperative, but he gave me permission to use whatever means necessary to get the treatment started. Thus our little charade with the cavity."
I stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, the meanings of her words slowly sinking into my gas-fogged brain.
"You do have such a beautiful smile," she said, absently tapping her chin. "And it could be so much more beautiful; I'm so glad that Jonathan saw the logic in putting you in braces."
Finally I understood what she was telling me. The expression of sudden horror that showed in my eyes actually made her laugh.
"Yes, dear," she said sweetly. "You're getting braces. That's what we do here: Cosmetic Medicine. That means whatever is physically necessary, be it medical or dental, to achieve maximum esthetic appeal." She raised her eyebrows. "Didn't you know that." she asked in mock innocence and I knew immediately that I had been had. Jonathan had obviously arranged the whole thing in advance with the doctor, and I had unwittingly followed along.
The doctor looked at her watch and smiled a smile that dripped saccharin. "Fortunately, I have no other patients scheduled today, so we can take our time. So just relax, this is going to take a little time."
That was the biggest understatement that I had ever heard. Already tired and sore from spending the entire morning in this chair, I could do nothing but watch in disbelief as she put an amazing amount of metal into my mouth. Despite the fact that I was drugged, I could still feel every squeezing and twisting of the pliers. She started by inserting a large C-shaped device into my mouth, fitting it just behind the lips. When she let go of the thing, my lips were stretched wide, apparently to give her room to get at my teeth. Next she started attaching metal bands to each of my four, rear teeth. This was done by swathing each tooth with cement and then hammering the bands into place. The sound of the hammer tapping against my teeth reverberated throu gh my head and sent shivers down my spine.
Next came the tedious task of attaching brackets to the rest of my teeth. This seemed to take forever, she explained as she went along that each tooth had to be lightly etched with an acid so that the bonding material would properly hold the bracket on. The gas was making me feel even more hazy and I kind drifted in and out, each time opening my eyes and hoping that she was done. When it was apparent that all the brackets were attached, she started to fit what she called an arch wire onto the brackets . She worked at the wire with a dangerous looking tool, and then there was a loud SNAP! in my head which was immediately followed by a steady pressure on my teeth. She repeated the procedure with my lower teeth and then started feeding a long length of thin, flexible wire into my mouth, wrapping a short piece around each bracket and giving it a twist with the pliers.
My head was pounding terribly and the muscles in my face were starting to go number when she finally sat back from her work and removed the mask from my nose. She took out the plastic lip spreader and removed the rubber wedges that had held mouth open, and I experienced a weird sensation as my lips slowly returned to their normal shape. Almost immediately my head began to clear and I was able to give her the full force of a look of hatred. Amazingly, she just laughed at me and went to the sink to wash . I ran my tongue over the surface of my teeth, amazed at the sharp, rough feel of the brackets. I knew already that the next few months were going to be terrible, and although I did not want to disappoint Jonathan, I wished that he would have discussed this decision with me beforehand.
The dentist came back over and sat down in front of me again.
"Your husband will be very happy to see you," she said with a smile. I rolled my eyes and refused to look her in the eyes. "You should consider yourself fortunate," she scolded. "This type of treatment is very expensive and your husband must care for you very much to send you to me." She absently straightened some tools on her tray and then picked up a pair of narrow pliers and examined it. "I do not see just anyone. All my customers are heavily screened, and there is normally a waiting list of almost six months for this type of treatment. But, as you probably know, your husband can be very persuasive, and as the result of him being such a long time patient of mine, we were able to come to a proper agreement."
She picked up a tiny piece of metal off the tray and held it up for me to look at. "By the way, I should say that in the past, some of my patients have been a little recalcitrant about their treatment and have even gone so far as to miss their appointments, so I have taken to attaching this little device to their braces."
I stared at the tiny device that she held between her thumb and forefinger. It consisted of a small, V-shaped piece of wire with a small, tight coil at the crook of the V. This was a squeezed together and held with a small clip. The whole thing was no more than a quarter inch long. She placed the device on the tray and took a pair of wire cutters and cut through the clip. With a loud snap, the wire sprang apart and shot across the room.
"This is a little invention that I came up with a few years ago," she explained. "As you probably know, the saliva in your mouth always contains a small amount of acid. The metal clip that holds this little device compressed is made of a special alloy that reacts to that acid, slowly deteriorating over a period of weeks." She picked up the two severed pieces of the clip and then went over to pick up the other piece from it's landing place in the corner. "Now, in actuality, the amount of force used in orthodontic treatment is really very slight. It is actually the continually applied tension over a period of months and years that actually move your teeth." She came back over stood in front of me. "I have taken the liberty of attaching one of these little devices to the arch wire that connects all the brackets of your upper teeth together. Should too much time go by and the little clip deteriorated to the point of breaking, the spring will expand, applying it's force to your arch wire. You will be exposed to a force almost ten times greater than what is normally used. The sudden pressure on your teeth will bring you to a level of pain that quite possibly could make you pass out.."
"Now this little clip needs to be replaced about every six weeks in order to prevent it from deteriorating. It so happens that I will need you to come back every six weeks for adjustments and cleaning. So, you see how this little arrangement works? As long as you are on time for your appointments, there will be nothing to worry about. Don't bother to come early, I do not see patients unless they have an appointment."
She helped me out of my seat and walked with me to the door. "By the way," she said, putting her hand on my arm to stop me. "You might want to cut down on soda drinks, coffee, tea or anything else that might have excess acid in it. This might cause the little clip to dissolve a little faster than normal." She smiled widely. "We would not want that to happen. Have a good day," she said as I went out the door and made my way to the parking lot.
I got in my car, spraying gravel as I pulled out of the driveway and sped down the street. I got about a mile down the street and pulled off to the side of the road and parked. I had wanted nothing more than to get out of that office, but now my curiosity was getting the better of me. I twisted the rear-view mirror around and bared my teeth into, groaning at the sight of the elaborate network of metal and wire in my mouth. The brackets were so large that I could barely see my actual teeth. A thick wire went straight across my teeth, connecting all the brackets together. There was also a series of thin, spidery wire, criss-crossing in and around the brackets. I also noticed that every bracket had a small hook with a tiny ball on the end. These hooks pointed up on my upper teeth and down and my lower teeth and I assumed that eventually the dentist would use them to attach rubber bands. Although why every tooth needed one was beyond me. Pulling back my lip, I spied the devilish little device that the dentist had installed, wondering if there was any truth to he story.
I back away from the mirror and tried to see what my whole face looked like with the braces. It was not good. I quickly discovered that there was really no way to disguise the fact of the braces. Smiling openly was totally unacceptable. Just the thought of it filled me with horrible embarrassment. Unfortunately, the alternatives were just as bad. The thick brackets pushed my lips out so much that I had to make a concentrated effort to keep my mouth completely closed. And the moment I forgot and relaxed my mouth, the braces pushed my lips apart, exposing the lines of wire and brackets behind them. After a few moments, I finally gave up, making a face at myself in the mirror before re-adjusting it to the proper position and driving the rest of the way home.
The rest of the afternoon, I puttered around the house, spending most of the time scrolling through the channels on the television. As the afternoon wore on, a dull throbbing in my head started to build in intensity. I had always heard that getting braces was painful, and I was beginning to get a sense that this was true. By the time it was ready to go to bed, the pain in my teeth was excruciating. I tried to take some aspirin and made the mistake of biting down on the tablet. The shot of pain that went through my jaw was so bad that I almost passed out.
That night the pain was so intense that I could not sleep. I spent the entire night staring into the darkness of our room, cursing Jonathan for what he had done to me, and cursing myself for submitting to his wishes.
The next morning the pain was no better. Eating was completely out of the question; even the slightest pressure on my teeth brought tears to my eyes. I quickly learned to subsist on a diet of water and aspirin. The only consolation that I could take was that I actually lost a little weight.
Eventually, though, the pain subsided and I was able to return to a somewhat normal existence. I slowly began to get accustomed to the braces, even if the sharp metal still tore up the inside of my mouth, most of the time I did not think about them. Although, I did notice that I would still subconsciously run my tongue over the brackets almost as if to remind myself that they were still there. I found this very strange, but figured that eventually my body would realize that they were not going away.
There was one frustration, though. I had always been an avid cola drinker. But, remembering the dentist's ominous warnings about heavy acid drinks, I was forced to give it up and start drinking water instead. Very frustrating, especially with a whole six-pack going to waste in the refrigerator, but I had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that I was actually feeling better and healthier than I had in a long time. And I was even able to lose a little more weight!
I was still a little hesitant to go out in public. Most of the time I did not think about the braces, but occasionally I would catch somebody looking at me curiously and I would feel terribly humiliated. It was especially embarrassing smiling at the cute men before remembering that I had a mouth full of metal. But eventually boredom drove me out of the house and in search of something to do. Since I was not working, I spent most of my time shopping and generally wasting Jonathan's money. I felt that I deserved it, considering what he was putting me through, and I really did not spend that much.
A few weeks later, on a Saturday, I was lounging around the house, doing nothing of consequence when a package arrived. Seeing that it was from Jonathan, I grabbed the package out of the mailman's hands and signed on the appropriate line.
Shutting the door in his face, I went back to the living room, tearing the wrapping off the package on the way. I set the box on the coffee table and opened it. Inside was a small note in Jonathan's handwriting that said: Found this in Stuttgart. I hope you'll love it as much as I do.
In the package was a stiff corset of green satin. I had seen these in some of the catalogs that Jonathan and I subscribed to, but I had never worn one before. I really did not have much desire to start wearing one now either, but still, I was a little curious. I unrolled the corset and another small slip of paper dropped out. I grabbed it up quickly, thinking that it was another note from Jonathan, but it turned out to be instructions for lacing and wearing the corset. In the lower right hand corner was stamped: Size 20. I attached no significance to that since I knew that European sizes rarely coincided with US sizes. I saw that it was already loosely laced in the pattern described in the instructions, so I wrapped it around my midriff, actually enjoying the cool feel of the satin, and connected the snaps together in front - what the instructions called the "busk."
I grabbed hold of the two ends of the laces, and tried to pull the corset tight around my body. As it got smaller, I could feel my spine start to straighten and I realized that I should probably be standing up. Sucking in my breath, I pulled on the laces again, feeling the corset compress my stomach and reduce my waist line. I tied off the end of the laces and went to the upstairs to our bedroom where a full-length mirror was located. As I walked up the stairs, I had to grab hold of the banister; the enforced posture of my body actually leaving me a little unbalanced.
As I stood in front of the mirror, I found that I actually liked the shape that reflected back to me. Turning around though, I quickly saw that the corset was too small. According to the instructions, the two edges of the corset should meet in the back; but these were almost six inches apart. I could see the laces digging into my skin, looking nothing like the miniature picture that came with it.
I untied the laces and tried to pull them tighter, but after much straining, I really was not able to accomplish much. I let the laces go and unhooked the corset in disappointment. I actually might have liked the thing. I always loved to wander through the lingerie shops to find interesting things, and I loved the feel of satin against my skin. The corset might have been fun; maybe not to where out in public, but certainly as a part of our love-making.
I went back downstairs and put the corset back in it's box. There was no address on the instructions so I had no way that I could send the thing back. I only hoped that Jonathan had held onto the receipt.
The next day I received a card in the mail reminding me of my appointment with the dentist. I laughed humorlessly as I considered the likelihood of forgetting the appointment with the dentist's ticking time bomb in my head. Every morning since I got the braces, I pulled my lip back to see if the little clip was still in one piece. I could see no deterioration, but I was not going to take the chance that she was lying. If the pain I experienced after getting the braces on was any indication, it was something I would try to avoid at all costs.
The appointed day finally arrived. I waited in the reception area for almost an hour before the dentist appeared and gestured me back into the office. I sat in her chair and obediently opened my mouth while she inserted the big lips spreader and poked around inside. She removed the arch wires from my upper and lower teeth and meticulously cleaned all the individual brackets. When she was done, she replaced the arch wires with new wires. I could instantly feel renewed pressure on my teeth as she snapped them into place. "Well, you seem to be doing pretty well," she said, speaking for the first time. "You are obviously brushing your teeth correctly and flossing regularly. I'll think this will go just fine." She picked up another tiny clip from her tray and fitted it to the end of a small pair of pliers. "We'll go ahead and replace this little guy, too."
She took another pair of pliers from her tray and inserted them both into my mouth. Suddenly, there was a burst of extreme pressure on my teeth. I grabbed the arms of the chair, squeezing them tightly as I felt her manipulating the pliers inside my mouth. Then there came a loud click that I felt through my entire head and the pressure immediately abated. She pulled the pliers from my mouth and smiled sweetly.
"There," she said. "That should last you until the next appointment."
"By the way, I spoke with your husband Jonathan last night," she said as she picked up the tools and deposited them in the sink. "He wanted to find out how you were doing with your braces."
I wondered why was Jonathan calling her, and I wondered even more why he hadn't called me.
"He also wanted to me to ask you if you had received the package that he'd sent," she went on. "Apparently he had to look a long time to find just the right one." She poked my stomach with her forefinger. "He probably wouldn't want to know that you were not wearing it."
I shied away from her poking, thinking that this was none of her business.
"Oh that reminds me," she said. "I want to check this fit."
Absently I complied, still wondering why Jonathan had called her instead of me. She slipped a piece of plastic into my mouth that looked sort of like the mouth guard that football players wear.
"Bite down," she instructed. It was hard to bite down with my lips still spread apart. "Does this fit? Move your lower jaw forward a little." Thinking that she was taking another impression of some type, I moved my teeth around, only to discover that there were already indentations in the plastic that fit my teeth exactly. "There," she said. "Now hold that position while I finish this up."
She picked up another pair of pliers and a spool of wire, threading the wire into my mouth. I had become so used to her working in my mouth that I didn't really pay any attention to what she was doing until she gave the pliers a short twist and I could feel my teeth pressing more firmly into the plastic. I mumbled a faint protest through my clenched teeth which she ignored totally, not even looking up at me. She repeated the twist of the pliers a number of times, continuously feeding a steady stream of wire into my mouth She removed the pliers and then smiled down at me.
"There, how does that feel?"
I stared up at her, wide eyed. My jaws were solidly wired together! I tried to shift my teeth but could not achieve even the slightest movement. I frantically felt around the inside of my mouth with my tongue. The plastic bite plate was firmly wedged between my teeth and completely immovable.
"Your husband indicated that you might be a little reticent about wearing your new corset," she explained. "He also told that he'd become a little concerned about your weight. Apparently the way you sometimes try to cope with loneliness is to eat, and since he is not here to hold you accountable, he hoped that maybe he could provide you with a little long-distance moral support." She stood up and smiled down at me. "Simply put, your jaws will stay wired together until the corset fits correctly." I continued to stare at her, round-eyed in surprise. "That means that the two edges of the corset have to meet when you lace it together."
She removed the stretching device from my mouth and I again felt the strange sensation as my lips slowly returned to their normal size. I was hardly aware of it though as the reality of her words sunk in.
"Now," she went on. "Merely losing weight is not going to achieve the results that we are after. The corset itself will actually reshape your body and give you that small waist that every woman desires. To achieve this effect, the corset should be worn 24 hours a day, taking it off only long enough to perform your bathing duties." She removed the clip-on bib from around my neck and threw it into the trash. "I'm sure the corset that your husband sent included instructions. If these are followed exactly, along with your new dietary incentive, you should be able to accomplish what your husband wants fairly quickly." She shrugged. "It's really just a question of discipline."
She went to the sink and started washing her hands. "Your husband has entrusted me with verifying your progress, so be sure to wear the corset when you come for your appointments. Otherwise, there will be no way to determine if I should remove the wire s from your jaws."
With that, she went out the door. After a few minutes, when she didn't come back, I realized that the appointment was over. I made my way out of the office to where my car was parked. I drove out of the parking lot a little more sedately than my last visit; really more confused than angry. However, as I got down the street, my curiosity got the best of me again and I pulled over to the curb again to inspect this latest diabolical creation in my mouth.
I did not think it possible to attach anymore metal to my teeth, but the tangle of wire that reflected back at me from the rear-view mirror almost caused me physical pain. Each of the little hooks that I had noticed before on all of the brackets served as a wiring post to hold my jaws together. My teeth were pressed firmly into the plastic. The wire that looped over the hooks actually passed through tiny holes in the plastic, apparently to prevent any possibility of it being dislodged. I tried again to move my teeth, watching closely for any movement, but my jaws were firmly locked together.
I slammed the car back into gear and pulled out into traffic to head home, spending the rest of the day being mad at Jonathan. That evening, the newly tightened wires of my braces started to make my teeth hurt like crazy. To make matters even worse, it was virtually impossible to get an aspirin tablet past my wired jaws. I tried crushing it, and mixing it in a glass of water, but most of the water ended up dribbling down my chin and I finally gave up, spending another long night in pain.
The next day, Saturday, my teeth did not feel any better, but I knew I needed to do something to take my mind off my troubles. I went out to the local mall to shop for some clothes, always a guaranteed method of cheering myself up. Unfortunately, after several frustrating and failed attempts to speak to the sales-people, I realized that with my jaws wired together I could not form most of the sounds necessary for speaking. The plastic bit wedged between my teeth got in the way of my tongue and prevented me from speaking properly, and what sound did come out was garbled and metallic. Finally, totally frustrated, and near to tears, I left the mall and went back home to sulk.
The next few days, I did not go out of the house. My teeth still hurt, so food was very far from my mind, and for the moment I was content to subsist on a diet of water and milk. I did experience the same weight loss that I had had the after my previous appointment, and that did give me a little consolation. But very soon, the pain in my teeth slowly subsided and I quickly became famished.
I knew that normal eating was obviously an impossible task; and it was a sad realization that any food that I wanted now would somehow have to go through a straw. Unfortunately the thought of most of my favorite things being reduced to a substance the consistency of baby food totally disgusted me, and I found myself frequenting health-food stores looking for nutritional shakes and other liquid diet products. Because I had no choice, I learned to like these products and even got a little creative with some of the flavors. Although, as the weeks wore on, I would gladly have given anything for a bite of a hamburger.
I knew that I was losing weight, and although I didn't bother standing on the scales, I just felt trimmer and healthier. Plus, I actually had another benefit from having my jaws wired together: it was now impossible for me to bite my nails, a habit that I had never been able to shake. For the first time in my life, my fingernails grew out long and natural. Now I took great pleasure in showing them off, smiling widely at compliments before clamping my lips together quickly as I remembered the twisted metal in my mouth.
Even though I was feeling better than I had in years, I knew that mere weight loss was not going to necessarily help my dilemma. After much reluctance and defiance, I finally decided to make another attempt at wearing the corset. Besides, my next appointment with the dentist was tomorrow, and I knew better than to try and imagine what forms of torture she would implement if she found that I had not been wearing it.
The next morning, feeling surprisingly peaceful about my decision to finally relent to the pressures placed on me by Jonathan and Dr. Gordon, I took a long and leisurely bath and then went to the bedroom to put on the corset.
I stood in front of the mirror and wrapped it around my body, again enjoying the smooth feel of the material, and snapped the busk together. I pulled on the laces, watching my reflection in the mirror as the corset formed itself to the shape of my now reduced waist. I waited a few moments, and then just as the instructions indicated, pulled even harder on the laces, squeezing every possible inch out of my waistline. I waited and then repeated the procedure again before tying off the laces.
I studied myself in the mirror, truly amazed at the shape of my waist and it's overall effect on my figure. I put my hands around the corset, strangely aroused at the stiff feel of boning, and tried to encircle my waist with my fingers and thumbs, surprised at how close they came together. Hesitantly, I turned around, looking over my shoulder to inspect the distance between the two edges of the corset. I let out a sigh of disappointment when I saw that there remained at least another two inches to go before the edges would meet. Still, as I turned around to face the mirror again, I could not help but appreciate the image of my body and the rigid definition brought on by the corset. Suddenly curious, I went over to the desk and rummaged around in the drawers for a tape-measure, the search made difficult because I could not bend at the waist. Discovering one in the bottom drawer, I quickly put it around my waist. 22 inches! I could not believe my eyes. I had not had even a 24" waist since high-school and had never dreamed that I would return to such a small size, much less 22 inches! It then occurred to me that the size on the corset instructions had said 20. My hopes began to die just then as I realized that I could never reach such a size.
I glanced at the clock on the night stand and went into palpitations. My appointment was in ten minutes. Knowing that I would not be able to get jeans on over the corset, I grabbed a long sun-dress out of the closet and through it over my head. With a feeling of deja-vu, I picked out a pair of shoes and ran bare-footed down the stairs and out to the car.
As I sat at the first of what turned out to be many red lights, I found that I was having difficulty breathing. The mad dash that I had made to get to my car had left me out of breath and I realized that the tight-fitting corset constricted my waist so much that I could only breathe by taking short gasps. Also, with my jaws wired together, I could not open my mouth to increase the intake of oxygen. My head was spinning and I felt like I was going to pass out until I got my breath under control.
I pulled into the parking lot of the medical building almost ten minutes late. I ran into the building, cutting my bare feet on the sharp gravel. I took the elevator upstairs and came down the hall just as Dr. Gordon was locking the door to her office. She made a big show of looking at her watch and then looking at me in annoyance.
"You are fortunate that my last appointment ran a little overtime," she said crossly as she unlocked the door and beckoned me inside. "I trust that this will not happen again."
Holding my shoes in my lap, I sat down in the examining chair and waited as the dentist set her purse down and came over to examine my teeth. Without inserting the stretching device into my mouth, she pulled my lips back and inspected the braces.
"These seem to be doing okay. I will assume that you are brushing and gargling regularly." It didn't sound so much like a question as a warning. I decided not to respond.
She picked up a long, sharp instrument from her tray and inserted into the back of my mouth, along the outside of the teeth. She gave it a sharp twist and I immediately felt a steady pressure on my teeth; I knew already that I was going to be in for another few days of pain.
She sat back and looked at me inquiringly. "You seem to have lost a little weight," she said. "Perhaps you finally saw the logic in your husband's desires." She pressed her hand against my stomach, feeling the stiff shape of the corset beneath my dress. "Do you think you're ready for an inspection?"
Again, it didn't sound like a question. This time more like an order. I stood up with my back to her and unzipped the back of my dress enough so that she could see the laces of the corset.
"Take it off," she snapped suddenly. I jumped and turned around to stare at her. "Take off the dress completely. Only then will I make my judgment."
I knew better than to contest the wild look in her eyes, even if I could get a few understandable words out. I unzipped the dress the rest of the way and let it fall to the floor. She walked around me slowly, reaching out to touch the corset and testing the tightness of the laces.
"You can put your dress back on now," she said returning to her normal voice. "It looks like you've still got a little more weight to lose." She gestured me back to the chair. "I think that will be all for today. Let me replace our little persuader-clip and you can be on your way."
She quickly substituted the tiny clip on my braces for a new one and then followed me out of the office, locking the doors behind her.
"I will let your husband know that you are making progress," she said. "Don't be late to your next appointment," she said warningly as we rode down in the elevator. "If you do that one more time I'll have to increase the amount of tension in your braces to keep you on schedule." She smiled a cold smile as she watched me recall the painful days after each tightening. "You don't want me to do that."
She got in her car and pulled out of the driveway, leaving me standing there, still holding my shoes in my hand. After a couple of failed attempts to put on my shoes, the corset digging into my sides every time I leaned over, I finally dropped the pumps on the ground and righted them with my foot so I could step into them.
I got into my car and drove slowly out the drive and headed home, trying not to think of the throbbing that had already started in my teeth. I did not think it possible to reduce my waist size anymore, but I was determined to do whatever was possible to get this mess of wire out of my mouth. It was not eating that was the problem anymore; I had learned quickly that I would not starve to death while on a liquid diet. What was frustrating me the most was my inability to talk. Every time I tried to communicate to somebody through my clenched teeth, it came out mumbled and unintelligible. Also, I found it very disconcerting and embarrassing to have somebody stare in rapt fascination at the braces and wire in my mouth as I tried to talk. I knew I could not handle much more of this. But, knowing I did not have much choice, I resigned myself to submitting to my husband's desires (and Dr. Gordon's demands) and start to wear the corset continually.
The first few days were the worst, the corset constantly dug into my skin, and I could not get used to the shortness of breath that it produced. It did help me to take my mind off of the pain in my teeth, but other than that, it was a real nuisance. Sleeping in the corset was almost impossible. I was used to sleeping on a soft mattress and could never get quite comfortable within the confines of the corset. Still, I could not deny that I enjoyed the look and feel of the corset at other times.
Soon, though, it became a routine; every morning I would wake up and take off the corset, feeling my back muscles relax as they're released from the pressure of the stiff boning. After bathing and meticulously drying myself off, I would powder myself down with scented talc and then slip on the corset, pulling on the laces as hard as I could before tying them off and finishing up my bathroom duties. Sitting at my vanity, I would put on my makeup and then brush my teeth and braces carefully. This usually took about twenty minutes, at which time I would pull on the corset laces again to make sure that the corset was as tight as possible before going to inspect myself in the mirror.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I could see that the edges of the corset were getting closer and closer together and I was getting excited by the prospect of having it fit properly and being released from my bondage. Unfortunately, after awhile I seemed to hit a wall and no amount of stretching and pulling would bring the two edges of the corset closer together. I resolved not to get too disappointed at this lack of progress, but I could not help being frustrated with the two edges being so close together, but refusing to meet. Every morning, I would pull and pull on the laces, trying to get them budge even a little bit, until finally, close to tears, I would give up and start dressing for the day.
A few weeks later, my next appointment with Dr. Gordon came up. I got up and went through the morning routine automatically, pulling on the laces of the corset and then giving myself a cursory glance in the mirror. This time, however, I did a double-take and looked more closely. The two ends of the corset were actually touching! I stared at my reflection in disbelief, almost not trusting what my eyes told me.
Frantically, as if the sight would disappear if I turned away for even a moment, I pulled open the drawers in the desk and retrieved the tape measure. 20 inches! I let the tape fall to the floor and went to stand in front of the mirror again.
As I stared into the mirror, I realized that the tall, lithe looking woman looking back was actually me. I now had a figure that most women would die for. The straight posture that resulted from the corset made me appear taller, the narrow waist accentuating the shape of my hips and breasts. I stood up on my toes, admiring the exaggerated vertical lines of my calves and thighs.
I smiled, strangely pleased at the sight of the braces glinting in the morning sun, and knowing that it was because of them that I had become the person that I saw reflected in the mirror.
My smile faded a little as I realized what the outcome of this morning's revelation would be. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, experiencing a sense of pleasure and security at the feel of the plastic bite-plate wedged firmly and immovably between my teeth. I moved my hands up and down the length of the corset, enjoying the smooth texture of the satin and the rigid support of the boning. I knew that the image before me was totally the result of the physical and emotional restraints placed upon me by Jonathan and Dr. Gordon. I also realized that I really had no desire to return to the unstructured and undisciplined lifestyle that I had enjoyed before.
In that moment, I came to a decision and my smile returned in full. I turned again with my back to the mirror, strangely excited as I slowly loosened the laces of my corset, watching carefully as the edges separated before tying them off. Feeling very peaceful and contented, I finished dressing and went to honor my appointment with Dr. Gordon.
The last few days had been hot and now the cool tile of the kitchen floor felt good against my bare feet. I started the coffee brewing and leaned against the counter, still reluctant to wake up. I had not bothered to get dressed; I still had on the shorts and oversized T-shirt that I liked to sleep in. As I stood there waiting for the coffee to finish, I contemplated the day ahead of me.
Actually there was nothing on my schedule. Ever since my marriage to Jonathan, life had been very carefree. His position and salary was more than sufficient to take care of both of us and very soon after the wedding he persuaded me to quit my job.
I had not really been looking for a husband to spoil me - I was quite capable of taking care of myself - but I had been working in a high-pressure brokerage firm for the past few years and was about burned out. I decided to accept his offer, if just for a little while, and then decide later whether I should go back to work. That was nine months ago and I was still enjoying the unemployed life.
The coffee maker finished it's job and I went to pour myself a cup, sitting down at the kitchen table. On the table was an envelope with "Sandra" written across the front in Jonathan's handwriting. I tore open the envelope and removed the single sheet inside, my eyes filling with tears as I read the note.
Sandra,
Had to go to Europe for project of mine that is in trouble.
I will probably be gone for at least six months. I will contact you
when time permits.
You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you.
Love, Jonathan
I kept looking at the note, hoping it would say something else, but no matter how many times I read it, it still said the same thing. My coffee forgotten, I sat back in my chair and stared at the small garden in the back of the house.
Soon after our marriage, I learned it was not uncommon for him to get called away for one of the many projects that he designed, but usually there was some advance notice of some kind.
Six months!
Feeling frustrated and a little angry that he did not wake me up to say good-bye, I started to wad up the note to throw it away. There was something else in the envelope. Hoping that it was another note from Jonathan, I quickly unraveled the envelope and extracted the other item. My heart sank when I saw that it was just a reminder card from our dentist for my appointment.
I looked at the date and time and realized in a panic that it was for today. More truthfully, it was for 20 minutes from now! I leapt out of my chair and hurried back upstairs, throwing my night-clothes off as I ran. Throwing on a pair of jeans and another T-shirt, I grabbed my tennis shoes and purse and ran out to the car, driving barefoot and already speeding before I got out of the driveway.
The dentist was across town, and I knew that there was no way that I could get there on time. This was especially frustrating because if it was my old dentist, I could have gotten there in five minutes. I had never been to Jonathan's dentist before now, and couldn't really understand why he had insisted that I switch all my records over. Especially since I rarely got cavities and the only dental work I usually needed was a cleaning.
Amazingly enough, I hit all the lights green and was able to pull into the parking lot only 10 minutes late. I slipped my shoes on and ran into the high-rise building, searching frantically for the directory to tell me where the dentist's office was. The eighth floor. I was finally able to catch my breath as I waited for the elevator to arrive at the appropriate floor. The building was like any other medical building; you knew that there were people here because of the cars in the parking lot, but there was not a soul to be seen in any of the hallways.
I arrived at the right office, bursting through the entrance, barely noticing the sign on the door that said "R.S. Gordon, DDS - Cosmetic Medicine & Dentistry." There was no one in the waiting room except for a bored looking receptionist on the other side of the smoked glass, sliding window. She didn't look up from her work as I went up and signed my name on the patient sheet and then sat down to wait.
There was the usual collection of out-of-date magazines arranged neatly on the coffee table. I just finished flipping through last months Time when the interior door opened and the receptionist called out my name. I followed her through the door and down a short hall to a windowless room that was barely large enough to hold the dentist's chair.
The receptionist had me sit in the chair, instructing me to wait for the dentist. I looked around the room in vague curiosity and quickly regretted not bringing one of the magazines with me.
After an indeterminable length of time, I heard the door open behind me. I twisted around in the chair to get my first look at my new dentist. She was a tiny woman, no more than five feet tall, and about 50 years old. She had that no-nonsense look that I remembered so well from the ancient teachers at boarding school.
"You haven't been to this other dentist in over a year," she said, looking disapprovingly at my chart. "Well, when I talked with your husband last night, he mentioned that you were a little cavalier in your personal health."
I knew already that I didn't like her. And I especially didn't like that she and Jonathan had been talking about me behind my back.
"Well, we'll have to start from scratch with you," she said.
What followed was a miserable morning spent with my mouth open as the dentist poked and prodded and x-rayed and even took impressions of my teeth. And then when she was done, she sicced her dental hygienist on me to clean my teeth. They were definitely more thorough than any other dentist that I had gone to. I probably should have been more appreciative, but by now, my eyes were sore from staring into the bright lamp, and the muscles in my lower face were almost completely numb from holding my mouth open the entire morning.
Finally it seemed like they were all finished. She left the little room for a moment, returning with a rack holding what I assumed were x-rays of my teeth, clipping them to the lighted panel.
"Your teeth look pretty good," she said without turning from the x-rays. "But it looks like you have one cavity that we need to take of." She pointed to a dark spot on one of the x-rays and I pretended to see the cavity. "We'll just take care of that now, and then you can be on your way." The dentist smiled for the first time, and before I had a chance to protest, she had pulled over a long hose with a small face-mask on the end. "I prefer to use twilight sleep instead of Novocain," she said. "I don't like to use needles if I can avoid it, and all my patients usually prefer this method."
She slipped the mask over my head, fitting it over my nose and pulling the rubber strap tight to hold it in place. She turned a knob and I immediately started smelling a sweet fragrance in the mask. Quickly, my head started to get light and I could feel my muscles grow limp. Suddenly feeling panicky, I tried to lift my hand to pull the mask away and discovered that I could not move at all. I stared up at the smiling form of Dr. Gordon.
"Well, that didn't take long," she said. "I'll be right back and we can get started."
I sat there staring at the wall until she returned. There was really nothing else I could do; I was totally paralyzed because of the gas. I was a little confused by the twilight sleep. I had never experienced it before, but I had always heard that you were almost totally unconscious and were oblivious to what was going on around you. But this was different; other than the fact that I could not move, I was completely awake and still had the use of all my senses. I started to panic again when I realized that this meant I could still feel all the things that the dentist was going to do to my teeth. I tried to yell, but all that came out was a slight gurgle.
The dentist came back in pushing a cart full of stainless steel instruments. She pushed it up next to the chair and then sat down on a high stool.
"It looks like you're about ready," she said. "Actually, I guess I can tell you now that you really don't have a cavity." She picked up a small, wedged shape piece of rubber and inserted it into my mouth, pushing it between my back teeth on the left side. "Remember, I told you that your husband and I talked last night. Well, he said that you have such a beautiful smile, - and now that I've seen you, I can agree - but that your teeth were a little crooked. We decided that a period of orthodontic treatment was necessary." She inserted another wedge between my rear teeth on the other side, effectively holding my jaws spread far apart. "He also said that you might be a little uncooperative, but he gave me permission to use whatever means necessary to get the treatment started. Thus our little charade with the cavity."
I stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, the meanings of her words slowly sinking into my gas-fogged brain.
"You do have such a beautiful smile," she said, absently tapping her chin. "And it could be so much more beautiful; I'm so glad that Jonathan saw the logic in putting you in braces."
Finally I understood what she was telling me. The expression of sudden horror that showed in my eyes actually made her laugh.
"Yes, dear," she said sweetly. "You're getting braces. That's what we do here: Cosmetic Medicine. That means whatever is physically necessary, be it medical or dental, to achieve maximum esthetic appeal." She raised her eyebrows. "Didn't you know that." she asked in mock innocence and I knew immediately that I had been had. Jonathan had obviously arranged the whole thing in advance with the doctor, and I had unwittingly followed along.
The doctor looked at her watch and smiled a smile that dripped saccharin. "Fortunately, I have no other patients scheduled today, so we can take our time. So just relax, this is going to take a little time."
That was the biggest understatement that I had ever heard. Already tired and sore from spending the entire morning in this chair, I could do nothing but watch in disbelief as she put an amazing amount of metal into my mouth. Despite the fact that I was drugged, I could still feel every squeezing and twisting of the pliers. She started by inserting a large C-shaped device into my mouth, fitting it just behind the lips. When she let go of the thing, my lips were stretched wide, apparently to give her room to get at my teeth. Next she started attaching metal bands to each of my four, rear teeth. This was done by swathing each tooth with cement and then hammering the bands into place. The sound of the hammer tapping against my teeth reverberated throu gh my head and sent shivers down my spine.
Next came the tedious task of attaching brackets to the rest of my teeth. This seemed to take forever, she explained as she went along that each tooth had to be lightly etched with an acid so that the bonding material would properly hold the bracket on. The gas was making me feel even more hazy and I kind drifted in and out, each time opening my eyes and hoping that she was done. When it was apparent that all the brackets were attached, she started to fit what she called an arch wire onto the brackets . She worked at the wire with a dangerous looking tool, and then there was a loud SNAP! in my head which was immediately followed by a steady pressure on my teeth. She repeated the procedure with my lower teeth and then started feeding a long length of thin, flexible wire into my mouth, wrapping a short piece around each bracket and giving it a twist with the pliers.
My head was pounding terribly and the muscles in my face were starting to go number when she finally sat back from her work and removed the mask from my nose. She took out the plastic lip spreader and removed the rubber wedges that had held mouth open, and I experienced a weird sensation as my lips slowly returned to their normal shape. Almost immediately my head began to clear and I was able to give her the full force of a look of hatred. Amazingly, she just laughed at me and went to the sink to wash . I ran my tongue over the surface of my teeth, amazed at the sharp, rough feel of the brackets. I knew already that the next few months were going to be terrible, and although I did not want to disappoint Jonathan, I wished that he would have discussed this decision with me beforehand.
The dentist came back over and sat down in front of me again.
"Your husband will be very happy to see you," she said with a smile. I rolled my eyes and refused to look her in the eyes. "You should consider yourself fortunate," she scolded. "This type of treatment is very expensive and your husband must care for you very much to send you to me." She absently straightened some tools on her tray and then picked up a pair of narrow pliers and examined it. "I do not see just anyone. All my customers are heavily screened, and there is normally a waiting list of almost six months for this type of treatment. But, as you probably know, your husband can be very persuasive, and as the result of him being such a long time patient of mine, we were able to come to a proper agreement."
She picked up a tiny piece of metal off the tray and held it up for me to look at. "By the way, I should say that in the past, some of my patients have been a little recalcitrant about their treatment and have even gone so far as to miss their appointments, so I have taken to attaching this little device to their braces."
I stared at the tiny device that she held between her thumb and forefinger. It consisted of a small, V-shaped piece of wire with a small, tight coil at the crook of the V. This was a squeezed together and held with a small clip. The whole thing was no more than a quarter inch long. She placed the device on the tray and took a pair of wire cutters and cut through the clip. With a loud snap, the wire sprang apart and shot across the room.
"This is a little invention that I came up with a few years ago," she explained. "As you probably know, the saliva in your mouth always contains a small amount of acid. The metal clip that holds this little device compressed is made of a special alloy that reacts to that acid, slowly deteriorating over a period of weeks." She picked up the two severed pieces of the clip and then went over to pick up the other piece from it's landing place in the corner. "Now, in actuality, the amount of force used in orthodontic treatment is really very slight. It is actually the continually applied tension over a period of months and years that actually move your teeth." She came back over stood in front of me. "I have taken the liberty of attaching one of these little devices to the arch wire that connects all the brackets of your upper teeth together. Should too much time go by and the little clip deteriorated to the point of breaking, the spring will expand, applying it's force to your arch wire. You will be exposed to a force almost ten times greater than what is normally used. The sudden pressure on your teeth will bring you to a level of pain that quite possibly could make you pass out.."
"Now this little clip needs to be replaced about every six weeks in order to prevent it from deteriorating. It so happens that I will need you to come back every six weeks for adjustments and cleaning. So, you see how this little arrangement works? As long as you are on time for your appointments, there will be nothing to worry about. Don't bother to come early, I do not see patients unless they have an appointment."
She helped me out of my seat and walked with me to the door. "By the way," she said, putting her hand on my arm to stop me. "You might want to cut down on soda drinks, coffee, tea or anything else that might have excess acid in it. This might cause the little clip to dissolve a little faster than normal." She smiled widely. "We would not want that to happen. Have a good day," she said as I went out the door and made my way to the parking lot.
I got in my car, spraying gravel as I pulled out of the driveway and sped down the street. I got about a mile down the street and pulled off to the side of the road and parked. I had wanted nothing more than to get out of that office, but now my curiosity was getting the better of me. I twisted the rear-view mirror around and bared my teeth into, groaning at the sight of the elaborate network of metal and wire in my mouth. The brackets were so large that I could barely see my actual teeth. A thick wire went straight across my teeth, connecting all the brackets together. There was also a series of thin, spidery wire, criss-crossing in and around the brackets. I also noticed that every bracket had a small hook with a tiny ball on the end. These hooks pointed up on my upper teeth and down and my lower teeth and I assumed that eventually the dentist would use them to attach rubber bands. Although why every tooth needed one was beyond me. Pulling back my lip, I spied the devilish little device that the dentist had installed, wondering if there was any truth to he story.
I back away from the mirror and tried to see what my whole face looked like with the braces. It was not good. I quickly discovered that there was really no way to disguise the fact of the braces. Smiling openly was totally unacceptable. Just the thought of it filled me with horrible embarrassment. Unfortunately, the alternatives were just as bad. The thick brackets pushed my lips out so much that I had to make a concentrated effort to keep my mouth completely closed. And the moment I forgot and relaxed my mouth, the braces pushed my lips apart, exposing the lines of wire and brackets behind them. After a few moments, I finally gave up, making a face at myself in the mirror before re-adjusting it to the proper position and driving the rest of the way home.
The rest of the afternoon, I puttered around the house, spending most of the time scrolling through the channels on the television. As the afternoon wore on, a dull throbbing in my head started to build in intensity. I had always heard that getting braces was painful, and I was beginning to get a sense that this was true. By the time it was ready to go to bed, the pain in my teeth was excruciating. I tried to take some aspirin and made the mistake of biting down on the tablet. The shot of pain that went through my jaw was so bad that I almost passed out.
That night the pain was so intense that I could not sleep. I spent the entire night staring into the darkness of our room, cursing Jonathan for what he had done to me, and cursing myself for submitting to his wishes.
The next morning the pain was no better. Eating was completely out of the question; even the slightest pressure on my teeth brought tears to my eyes. I quickly learned to subsist on a diet of water and aspirin. The only consolation that I could take was that I actually lost a little weight.
Eventually, though, the pain subsided and I was able to return to a somewhat normal existence. I slowly began to get accustomed to the braces, even if the sharp metal still tore up the inside of my mouth, most of the time I did not think about them. Although, I did notice that I would still subconsciously run my tongue over the brackets almost as if to remind myself that they were still there. I found this very strange, but figured that eventually my body would realize that they were not going away.
There was one frustration, though. I had always been an avid cola drinker. But, remembering the dentist's ominous warnings about heavy acid drinks, I was forced to give it up and start drinking water instead. Very frustrating, especially with a whole six-pack going to waste in the refrigerator, but I had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that I was actually feeling better and healthier than I had in a long time. And I was even able to lose a little more weight!
I was still a little hesitant to go out in public. Most of the time I did not think about the braces, but occasionally I would catch somebody looking at me curiously and I would feel terribly humiliated. It was especially embarrassing smiling at the cute men before remembering that I had a mouth full of metal. But eventually boredom drove me out of the house and in search of something to do. Since I was not working, I spent most of my time shopping and generally wasting Jonathan's money. I felt that I deserved it, considering what he was putting me through, and I really did not spend that much.
A few weeks later, on a Saturday, I was lounging around the house, doing nothing of consequence when a package arrived. Seeing that it was from Jonathan, I grabbed the package out of the mailman's hands and signed on the appropriate line.
Shutting the door in his face, I went back to the living room, tearing the wrapping off the package on the way. I set the box on the coffee table and opened it. Inside was a small note in Jonathan's handwriting that said: Found this in Stuttgart. I hope you'll love it as much as I do.
In the package was a stiff corset of green satin. I had seen these in some of the catalogs that Jonathan and I subscribed to, but I had never worn one before. I really did not have much desire to start wearing one now either, but still, I was a little curious. I unrolled the corset and another small slip of paper dropped out. I grabbed it up quickly, thinking that it was another note from Jonathan, but it turned out to be instructions for lacing and wearing the corset. In the lower right hand corner was stamped: Size 20. I attached no significance to that since I knew that European sizes rarely coincided with US sizes. I saw that it was already loosely laced in the pattern described in the instructions, so I wrapped it around my midriff, actually enjoying the cool feel of the satin, and connected the snaps together in front - what the instructions called the "busk."
I grabbed hold of the two ends of the laces, and tried to pull the corset tight around my body. As it got smaller, I could feel my spine start to straighten and I realized that I should probably be standing up. Sucking in my breath, I pulled on the laces again, feeling the corset compress my stomach and reduce my waist line. I tied off the end of the laces and went to the upstairs to our bedroom where a full-length mirror was located. As I walked up the stairs, I had to grab hold of the banister; the enforced posture of my body actually leaving me a little unbalanced.
As I stood in front of the mirror, I found that I actually liked the shape that reflected back to me. Turning around though, I quickly saw that the corset was too small. According to the instructions, the two edges of the corset should meet in the back; but these were almost six inches apart. I could see the laces digging into my skin, looking nothing like the miniature picture that came with it.
I untied the laces and tried to pull them tighter, but after much straining, I really was not able to accomplish much. I let the laces go and unhooked the corset in disappointment. I actually might have liked the thing. I always loved to wander through the lingerie shops to find interesting things, and I loved the feel of satin against my skin. The corset might have been fun; maybe not to where out in public, but certainly as a part of our love-making.
I went back downstairs and put the corset back in it's box. There was no address on the instructions so I had no way that I could send the thing back. I only hoped that Jonathan had held onto the receipt.
The next day I received a card in the mail reminding me of my appointment with the dentist. I laughed humorlessly as I considered the likelihood of forgetting the appointment with the dentist's ticking time bomb in my head. Every morning since I got the braces, I pulled my lip back to see if the little clip was still in one piece. I could see no deterioration, but I was not going to take the chance that she was lying. If the pain I experienced after getting the braces on was any indication, it was something I would try to avoid at all costs.
The appointed day finally arrived. I waited in the reception area for almost an hour before the dentist appeared and gestured me back into the office. I sat in her chair and obediently opened my mouth while she inserted the big lips spreader and poked around inside. She removed the arch wires from my upper and lower teeth and meticulously cleaned all the individual brackets. When she was done, she replaced the arch wires with new wires. I could instantly feel renewed pressure on my teeth as she snapped them into place. "Well, you seem to be doing pretty well," she said, speaking for the first time. "You are obviously brushing your teeth correctly and flossing regularly. I'll think this will go just fine." She picked up another tiny clip from her tray and fitted it to the end of a small pair of pliers. "We'll go ahead and replace this little guy, too."
She took another pair of pliers from her tray and inserted them both into my mouth. Suddenly, there was a burst of extreme pressure on my teeth. I grabbed the arms of the chair, squeezing them tightly as I felt her manipulating the pliers inside my mouth. Then there came a loud click that I felt through my entire head and the pressure immediately abated. She pulled the pliers from my mouth and smiled sweetly.
"There," she said. "That should last you until the next appointment."
"By the way, I spoke with your husband Jonathan last night," she said as she picked up the tools and deposited them in the sink. "He wanted to find out how you were doing with your braces."
I wondered why was Jonathan calling her, and I wondered even more why he hadn't called me.
"He also wanted to me to ask you if you had received the package that he'd sent," she went on. "Apparently he had to look a long time to find just the right one." She poked my stomach with her forefinger. "He probably wouldn't want to know that you were not wearing it."
I shied away from her poking, thinking that this was none of her business.
"Oh that reminds me," she said. "I want to check this fit."
Absently I complied, still wondering why Jonathan had called her instead of me. She slipped a piece of plastic into my mouth that looked sort of like the mouth guard that football players wear.
"Bite down," she instructed. It was hard to bite down with my lips still spread apart. "Does this fit? Move your lower jaw forward a little." Thinking that she was taking another impression of some type, I moved my teeth around, only to discover that there were already indentations in the plastic that fit my teeth exactly. "There," she said. "Now hold that position while I finish this up."
She picked up another pair of pliers and a spool of wire, threading the wire into my mouth. I had become so used to her working in my mouth that I didn't really pay any attention to what she was doing until she gave the pliers a short twist and I could feel my teeth pressing more firmly into the plastic. I mumbled a faint protest through my clenched teeth which she ignored totally, not even looking up at me. She repeated the twist of the pliers a number of times, continuously feeding a steady stream of wire into my mouth She removed the pliers and then smiled down at me.
"There, how does that feel?"
I stared up at her, wide eyed. My jaws were solidly wired together! I tried to shift my teeth but could not achieve even the slightest movement. I frantically felt around the inside of my mouth with my tongue. The plastic bite plate was firmly wedged between my teeth and completely immovable.
"Your husband indicated that you might be a little reticent about wearing your new corset," she explained. "He also told that he'd become a little concerned about your weight. Apparently the way you sometimes try to cope with loneliness is to eat, and since he is not here to hold you accountable, he hoped that maybe he could provide you with a little long-distance moral support." She stood up and smiled down at me. "Simply put, your jaws will stay wired together until the corset fits correctly." I continued to stare at her, round-eyed in surprise. "That means that the two edges of the corset have to meet when you lace it together."
She removed the stretching device from my mouth and I again felt the strange sensation as my lips slowly returned to their normal size. I was hardly aware of it though as the reality of her words sunk in.
"Now," she went on. "Merely losing weight is not going to achieve the results that we are after. The corset itself will actually reshape your body and give you that small waist that every woman desires. To achieve this effect, the corset should be worn 24 hours a day, taking it off only long enough to perform your bathing duties." She removed the clip-on bib from around my neck and threw it into the trash. "I'm sure the corset that your husband sent included instructions. If these are followed exactly, along with your new dietary incentive, you should be able to accomplish what your husband wants fairly quickly." She shrugged. "It's really just a question of discipline."
She went to the sink and started washing her hands. "Your husband has entrusted me with verifying your progress, so be sure to wear the corset when you come for your appointments. Otherwise, there will be no way to determine if I should remove the wire s from your jaws."
With that, she went out the door. After a few minutes, when she didn't come back, I realized that the appointment was over. I made my way out of the office to where my car was parked. I drove out of the parking lot a little more sedately than my last visit; really more confused than angry. However, as I got down the street, my curiosity got the best of me again and I pulled over to the curb again to inspect this latest diabolical creation in my mouth.
I did not think it possible to attach anymore metal to my teeth, but the tangle of wire that reflected back at me from the rear-view mirror almost caused me physical pain. Each of the little hooks that I had noticed before on all of the brackets served as a wiring post to hold my jaws together. My teeth were pressed firmly into the plastic. The wire that looped over the hooks actually passed through tiny holes in the plastic, apparently to prevent any possibility of it being dislodged. I tried again to move my teeth, watching closely for any movement, but my jaws were firmly locked together.
I slammed the car back into gear and pulled out into traffic to head home, spending the rest of the day being mad at Jonathan. That evening, the newly tightened wires of my braces started to make my teeth hurt like crazy. To make matters even worse, it was virtually impossible to get an aspirin tablet past my wired jaws. I tried crushing it, and mixing it in a glass of water, but most of the water ended up dribbling down my chin and I finally gave up, spending another long night in pain.
The next day, Saturday, my teeth did not feel any better, but I knew I needed to do something to take my mind off my troubles. I went out to the local mall to shop for some clothes, always a guaranteed method of cheering myself up. Unfortunately, after several frustrating and failed attempts to speak to the sales-people, I realized that with my jaws wired together I could not form most of the sounds necessary for speaking. The plastic bit wedged between my teeth got in the way of my tongue and prevented me from speaking properly, and what sound did come out was garbled and metallic. Finally, totally frustrated, and near to tears, I left the mall and went back home to sulk.
The next few days, I did not go out of the house. My teeth still hurt, so food was very far from my mind, and for the moment I was content to subsist on a diet of water and milk. I did experience the same weight loss that I had had the after my previous appointment, and that did give me a little consolation. But very soon, the pain in my teeth slowly subsided and I quickly became famished.
I knew that normal eating was obviously an impossible task; and it was a sad realization that any food that I wanted now would somehow have to go through a straw. Unfortunately the thought of most of my favorite things being reduced to a substance the consistency of baby food totally disgusted me, and I found myself frequenting health-food stores looking for nutritional shakes and other liquid diet products. Because I had no choice, I learned to like these products and even got a little creative with some of the flavors. Although, as the weeks wore on, I would gladly have given anything for a bite of a hamburger.
I knew that I was losing weight, and although I didn't bother standing on the scales, I just felt trimmer and healthier. Plus, I actually had another benefit from having my jaws wired together: it was now impossible for me to bite my nails, a habit that I had never been able to shake. For the first time in my life, my fingernails grew out long and natural. Now I took great pleasure in showing them off, smiling widely at compliments before clamping my lips together quickly as I remembered the twisted metal in my mouth.
Even though I was feeling better than I had in years, I knew that mere weight loss was not going to necessarily help my dilemma. After much reluctance and defiance, I finally decided to make another attempt at wearing the corset. Besides, my next appointment with the dentist was tomorrow, and I knew better than to try and imagine what forms of torture she would implement if she found that I had not been wearing it.
The next morning, feeling surprisingly peaceful about my decision to finally relent to the pressures placed on me by Jonathan and Dr. Gordon, I took a long and leisurely bath and then went to the bedroom to put on the corset.
I stood in front of the mirror and wrapped it around my body, again enjoying the smooth feel of the material, and snapped the busk together. I pulled on the laces, watching my reflection in the mirror as the corset formed itself to the shape of my now reduced waist. I waited a few moments, and then just as the instructions indicated, pulled even harder on the laces, squeezing every possible inch out of my waistline. I waited and then repeated the procedure again before tying off the laces.
I studied myself in the mirror, truly amazed at the shape of my waist and it's overall effect on my figure. I put my hands around the corset, strangely aroused at the stiff feel of boning, and tried to encircle my waist with my fingers and thumbs, surprised at how close they came together. Hesitantly, I turned around, looking over my shoulder to inspect the distance between the two edges of the corset. I let out a sigh of disappointment when I saw that there remained at least another two inches to go before the edges would meet. Still, as I turned around to face the mirror again, I could not help but appreciate the image of my body and the rigid definition brought on by the corset. Suddenly curious, I went over to the desk and rummaged around in the drawers for a tape-measure, the search made difficult because I could not bend at the waist. Discovering one in the bottom drawer, I quickly put it around my waist. 22 inches! I could not believe my eyes. I had not had even a 24" waist since high-school and had never dreamed that I would return to such a small size, much less 22 inches! It then occurred to me that the size on the corset instructions had said 20. My hopes began to die just then as I realized that I could never reach such a size.
I glanced at the clock on the night stand and went into palpitations. My appointment was in ten minutes. Knowing that I would not be able to get jeans on over the corset, I grabbed a long sun-dress out of the closet and through it over my head. With a feeling of deja-vu, I picked out a pair of shoes and ran bare-footed down the stairs and out to the car.
As I sat at the first of what turned out to be many red lights, I found that I was having difficulty breathing. The mad dash that I had made to get to my car had left me out of breath and I realized that the tight-fitting corset constricted my waist so much that I could only breathe by taking short gasps. Also, with my jaws wired together, I could not open my mouth to increase the intake of oxygen. My head was spinning and I felt like I was going to pass out until I got my breath under control.
I pulled into the parking lot of the medical building almost ten minutes late. I ran into the building, cutting my bare feet on the sharp gravel. I took the elevator upstairs and came down the hall just as Dr. Gordon was locking the door to her office. She made a big show of looking at her watch and then looking at me in annoyance.
"You are fortunate that my last appointment ran a little overtime," she said crossly as she unlocked the door and beckoned me inside. "I trust that this will not happen again."
Holding my shoes in my lap, I sat down in the examining chair and waited as the dentist set her purse down and came over to examine my teeth. Without inserting the stretching device into my mouth, she pulled my lips back and inspected the braces.
"These seem to be doing okay. I will assume that you are brushing and gargling regularly." It didn't sound so much like a question as a warning. I decided not to respond.
She picked up a long, sharp instrument from her tray and inserted into the back of my mouth, along the outside of the teeth. She gave it a sharp twist and I immediately felt a steady pressure on my teeth; I knew already that I was going to be in for another few days of pain.
She sat back and looked at me inquiringly. "You seem to have lost a little weight," she said. "Perhaps you finally saw the logic in your husband's desires." She pressed her hand against my stomach, feeling the stiff shape of the corset beneath my dress. "Do you think you're ready for an inspection?"
Again, it didn't sound like a question. This time more like an order. I stood up with my back to her and unzipped the back of my dress enough so that she could see the laces of the corset.
"Take it off," she snapped suddenly. I jumped and turned around to stare at her. "Take off the dress completely. Only then will I make my judgment."
I knew better than to contest the wild look in her eyes, even if I could get a few understandable words out. I unzipped the dress the rest of the way and let it fall to the floor. She walked around me slowly, reaching out to touch the corset and testing the tightness of the laces.
"You can put your dress back on now," she said returning to her normal voice. "It looks like you've still got a little more weight to lose." She gestured me back to the chair. "I think that will be all for today. Let me replace our little persuader-clip and you can be on your way."
She quickly substituted the tiny clip on my braces for a new one and then followed me out of the office, locking the doors behind her.
"I will let your husband know that you are making progress," she said. "Don't be late to your next appointment," she said warningly as we rode down in the elevator. "If you do that one more time I'll have to increase the amount of tension in your braces to keep you on schedule." She smiled a cold smile as she watched me recall the painful days after each tightening. "You don't want me to do that."
She got in her car and pulled out of the driveway, leaving me standing there, still holding my shoes in my hand. After a couple of failed attempts to put on my shoes, the corset digging into my sides every time I leaned over, I finally dropped the pumps on the ground and righted them with my foot so I could step into them.
I got into my car and drove slowly out the drive and headed home, trying not to think of the throbbing that had already started in my teeth. I did not think it possible to reduce my waist size anymore, but I was determined to do whatever was possible to get this mess of wire out of my mouth. It was not eating that was the problem anymore; I had learned quickly that I would not starve to death while on a liquid diet. What was frustrating me the most was my inability to talk. Every time I tried to communicate to somebody through my clenched teeth, it came out mumbled and unintelligible. Also, I found it very disconcerting and embarrassing to have somebody stare in rapt fascination at the braces and wire in my mouth as I tried to talk. I knew I could not handle much more of this. But, knowing I did not have much choice, I resigned myself to submitting to my husband's desires (and Dr. Gordon's demands) and start to wear the corset continually.
The first few days were the worst, the corset constantly dug into my skin, and I could not get used to the shortness of breath that it produced. It did help me to take my mind off of the pain in my teeth, but other than that, it was a real nuisance. Sleeping in the corset was almost impossible. I was used to sleeping on a soft mattress and could never get quite comfortable within the confines of the corset. Still, I could not deny that I enjoyed the look and feel of the corset at other times.
Soon, though, it became a routine; every morning I would wake up and take off the corset, feeling my back muscles relax as they're released from the pressure of the stiff boning. After bathing and meticulously drying myself off, I would powder myself down with scented talc and then slip on the corset, pulling on the laces as hard as I could before tying them off and finishing up my bathroom duties. Sitting at my vanity, I would put on my makeup and then brush my teeth and braces carefully. This usually took about twenty minutes, at which time I would pull on the corset laces again to make sure that the corset was as tight as possible before going to inspect myself in the mirror.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I could see that the edges of the corset were getting closer and closer together and I was getting excited by the prospect of having it fit properly and being released from my bondage. Unfortunately, after awhile I seemed to hit a wall and no amount of stretching and pulling would bring the two edges of the corset closer together. I resolved not to get too disappointed at this lack of progress, but I could not help being frustrated with the two edges being so close together, but refusing to meet. Every morning, I would pull and pull on the laces, trying to get them budge even a little bit, until finally, close to tears, I would give up and start dressing for the day.
A few weeks later, my next appointment with Dr. Gordon came up. I got up and went through the morning routine automatically, pulling on the laces of the corset and then giving myself a cursory glance in the mirror. This time, however, I did a double-take and looked more closely. The two ends of the corset were actually touching! I stared at my reflection in disbelief, almost not trusting what my eyes told me.
Frantically, as if the sight would disappear if I turned away for even a moment, I pulled open the drawers in the desk and retrieved the tape measure. 20 inches! I let the tape fall to the floor and went to stand in front of the mirror again.
As I stared into the mirror, I realized that the tall, lithe looking woman looking back was actually me. I now had a figure that most women would die for. The straight posture that resulted from the corset made me appear taller, the narrow waist accentuating the shape of my hips and breasts. I stood up on my toes, admiring the exaggerated vertical lines of my calves and thighs.
I smiled, strangely pleased at the sight of the braces glinting in the morning sun, and knowing that it was because of them that I had become the person that I saw reflected in the mirror.
My smile faded a little as I realized what the outcome of this morning's revelation would be. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, experiencing a sense of pleasure and security at the feel of the plastic bite-plate wedged firmly and immovably between my teeth. I moved my hands up and down the length of the corset, enjoying the smooth texture of the satin and the rigid support of the boning. I knew that the image before me was totally the result of the physical and emotional restraints placed upon me by Jonathan and Dr. Gordon. I also realized that I really had no desire to return to the unstructured and undisciplined lifestyle that I had enjoyed before.
In that moment, I came to a decision and my smile returned in full. I turned again with my back to the mirror, strangely excited as I slowly loosened the laces of my corset, watching carefully as the edges separated before tying them off. Feeling very peaceful and contented, I finished dressing and went to honor my appointment with Dr. Gordon.