Two years and four months ago, I stepped foot into a dentist clinic and had my teeth undergo physical torture while myself mental torture.
No doubt, I lost weight during the first week of having metal pushing my crooked teeth back to perfection.
And now, two years and four months later, I will be going back for my last usual monthly check up. What follows here after will be a few six-months-once check-ups and a set of retainers. I have only a few more hours until the braces are removed from my teeth, after that, it's all retainers and back to the normal toothbrush again.
Gosh, time flies.
Thanks for these two years, constantly watching over me and teaching me to endure all sorts of pain a set of mouth can undergo. It might not be much, but I strongly feel I have grown and learn (even though it's only a bit) from this experience.
The beginning at the end. I won't forget you.
