You know that warning, "OBJECTS IN YOUR REAR VIEW MIRROR MAY APPEAR CLOSER THAN THEY ARE?" Well, orthodontists should also come with a warning..."ANYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN YOUR MOUTH IS GONNA FEEL MUCH WORSE THAN IT ACTUALLY IS." 

The braces are on. And I bear a striking resemblance to the scary pig-tailed girl in Finding Nemo.  I am convinced there are three situations you can use to test your reaction to anything else life might throw at you:

1)Spend an hour or two at the gate waiting for your flight to arrive at Burbank International Airport. Pay special attention to your insides when the other passengers start to line up and the couple with the McDonald's sack tries to cut in front of you after you have been sitting there for the last hour and a half.

2)Get a puppy. And notice your behavior over the next three months as you potty and obedience train said puppy. Nothing tells you more about yourself and your ability to effect change like a Shih Tzu that won't down stay.

And 3) Get adult braces when you've never had braces before.

My orthodontist...well, she looks like a duck and quacks like a duck but she's really the grim reaper. Complete with scythe. Here's the thing...I'm the kind of person who has a relationship with my dentist. Like I have a relationship with my auto body guy. And my dog groomer. And my Korean body scrub Messiah. I've gone to the same dental hygienist every three months since I was 15 years old...Linda...and I still go to her whenever I'm home. She makes my teeth sparkly clean, we talk about dogs the whole time, and then, at the end, Dr. Midkiff comes in and they both squeal in delight at how beautiful me teeth are. Seriously...there is dental squealing.

Then there's my orthodontist. Don't get me wrong...she's very nice. But she's a bomb dropper. She always has something bad to tell me...and at the WORST possible moment. For example, one day she asks, "You know you have these black spots on your teeth?" WHAT?!? You want to see me do the Chicken Little? Tell me there are black spots on my teeth when you've got the jaws of life in my mouth and have me strapped to an orthodontist's chair. 40 minutes LATER, when the jaws of life come out and I can finally screech "The sky is falling!!!," she assures me it's only one spot, not spots plural, and it may not be anything.  It doesn't help that the lights in an orthodontist's office look surprisingly similar to the ones in women's dressing rooms and I want to kill myself whenever she hands me the hand mirror. Justin Bieber would look decrepit in that light. Needless to say, I break 10 traffic laws driving to my dentist. It turns out to be a cavity...the second one in my life...and so miniscule the dentist fills it without even giving me a leather strap to bite on.

On the bright side, braces may be THE BEST diet secret ever. Most times, it's not worth the effort to eat. Do you know how long it takes to brush and floss with braces? Forever. Plus 45 minutes. And you have to eat everything in one of two ways: You can swallow things whole, like a snake. Or chew it 60 times. I'm currently experimenting with both and will let you know.  

In other news, my mom will be here in less than 48 hours. I've scheduled something fun for every day. And I made her an appointment for a deluxe Korean body scrub on Saturday. She's already fretting about being "nekked" (that's how she pronounces naked) and has purchased underwear just for the occasion...so she won't have to wear the paper ones Miss Lee hands out. My mom comes from a family and time when people would shower with their clothes on if they could. So this should be a barrel of laughs.  

Who needs a man? Or chocolate, for that matter? When you have Miss Lee?

For those of you who have been reading the blog, you know how much I'm into spa services. And for those of you who are just joining me...well...I'm into spa services. And my most recent fixation has been how to take care of the epidermis that brought me into this world while I'm losing 60 pounds. The LAST thing I want to do is reach my goal weight and look like a Shar Pei. So, I've been drinking gallons of water, downing loads of salmon and spinach, and now I've actually joined a spa. Who knew such a thing could be done? But it's true! For $99 a month, I have unlimited access to a spa about seven miles from my house. Unlimited access to the Jacuzzi, sauna and...wait for it...(echoing) wet steam room, steam room, steam room. Have any of you ever been into a wet steam room? Think Houston in July...except you're naked and surrounded by the smell of eucalyptus oil. It's the best thing EVER...and completely eliminates every toxin and ounce of water weight that ails you.

But I digress.

As part of my new fabulous spa membership, I get one deluxe spa service a month. Which brings me to Miss Lee. Who may be the second coming of Jesus, by the way. And whom I met on Thursday when I went in to redeem my monthly service...the Deluxe Korean Body Scrub. Here's how it went: I was greeted by Miss Lee, a delightful Korean woman who speaks maybe four words of English but has the sweetest smile and sparkly eyes. She motions for me to lie down on a large cushiony table in a room separated by the rest of the women's spa area by a tri-fold screen. It was my birthday that day...and I was going to have to be in nothing but my birthday suit for this service. Being naked is not usually my favorite thing. But Miss Lee looks harmless enough. And she's probably seen it all, right? Plus, she's in a bikini herself. So, off comes the terry cloth robe and every shred of dignity.

But wait, Miss Lee hands me something. It looks like a hair net. No, it's the paper panties I'm supposed to put on. She can't be serious! It looks like a bookmark with an elastic band. Remember the white onezie, people? Well, this was the black nonezie. Note to self: Bring bikini bottoms to next service.

I put them on. Miss Lee says "stomach" and motions for me to lie down. I can't see what she's going to do because she covers my head with a towel (I'll learn why later). And beginning with my ankles, she begins to exfoliate every dead skin cell I've ever had...or ever will have in my whole life. I can't tell what she's using...loofah mitts, pumice stones or the holy grail...but holy crap. I've been getting spa services since I was 12 years old and I've never had something like this. I quickly realize this is going to be the most profound 80 minutes of my life.

Minus the Good China, Miss Lee exfoliates every square inch of my person. Then walks over to a large vessel of water and fills a bucket full, which she throws at me. Hence the towel over my head. But Miss Lee obviously knows what she's doing, because over the course of 80 minutes, she'll throw 30 buckets of perfectly heated water on me without getting a single drop on my face.

So we spend about 60 of the 80 minutes doing a hybrid of naked Twister and the YMCA (I play all four Village People). Miss Lee has me flip onto my back, then both sides, while carefully keeping me from sliding right off the edge of the vinyl table (I can't help but wonder if she's ever lost someone to slippage). And let me tell you, this woman HAS to be a mother. Because she makes it her mission in life to get me squeaky clean. You know how your boyfriend or husband gives you a "massage." The "I'm-so-not-paying-attention-and-just-want-to-watch-TV" massage? Well, this is the opposite of that. This is the "mom-the-night-before-your-4th-grade-school-photo" bath.

Then...wait, I almost can't say it without crying...she swaddles me. SWADDLES! Remember when you were a kid and your mother wrapped you in a towel when you got out and hugged you? Exactly! She covered me in warm towels and swaddled my dead-skin-free body, carefully drying each appendage and phalange. But wait there's more. Just when I thought I had experienced a Biblical miracle and it couldn't possibly get any better, she massaged me with lavender scented body oil, gave me a facial mask and massage, and washed.my.hair.

I don't know if Miss Lee understood anything I said to her when I said goodbye. Which is probably a good thing. "I think you might be the Messiah" might be a little much for a first appointment. The second one, maybe. Trust me, I will be seeing her again in EXACTLY 30 days. For those of you who have never had a Deluxe Korean Body Scrub, run (don't walk) to your nearest Korean day spa. And if you're in the Pasadena/L.A. area, don't go to anyone but Miss Lee. I'll be adding a link to the spa soon. In the meantime, email me if you're interested (at Jonezie127@gmail.com) and I'll give you the contact information.

I'm getting braces. 

Remember when I was convinced my middle toe was growing exponentially longer than the others and was looking into plastic toe surgery? Well, I've moved on. Literally, from toe to head. Or teeth, to be more specific.

I may have been the chubbiest kid in my class growing up but I always had three things going for me...great skin, commercial quality hair and perfectly straight teeth (sans braces). I wore glasses the size of Mr. Magoo, mind you, but only until 9th grade...when I shed the glasses and 50 pounds for my first pair of contacts and my first boyfriend. The contacts worked out better. 

Now, I'm getting braces. There really is a reason. It's not like the middle toe delusions. Even though I had all my wisdom teeth removed in high school, it looks like my teeth are starting to shift a little bit. Not enough for most people to notice. But I notice. And there just comes a time in every woman's life, I suppose, when she feels the need to hang on to her youth. You know what I mean? I'm at the point where the weight is starting to come off again...this time, for the right reasons...and I just want the skin, hair and teeth to go with the up and coming body.    

Nancy said I can kiss dating goodbye for the next 12-18 months. PRIME dating years, she was quick to point out. She was kidding, of course. But I figure one of two things is going to happen. I'm going to look 15 years younger and adorable and have more dates than ever. OR I'm going to be a happily single 37-year-old women with very straight teeth to look forward to.

In any event, it doesn't matter much because I found out the most wonderful news. Did you read that Tim Gunn has been celibate (happily so) for over 20 years?!? Lemme just say, I would drink Tim Gunn's bath water I love him so much. If he can do it, so can I!  

In the meantime, I have the first orthodontist appointment...of my life...a week from Thursday. This is where they take your x-rays, impressions, before photos and talk to you about bizarre things like some kind of wax you put in your mouth and how you shouldn't make out with anyone else who has braces or you'll get stuck together. Then, my brackets...ohhh, I'm giddy just saying "brackets'...go on November 1st. And THEN, a week later, I guess they put the wires on. By mid-November, I'll be a metal mouth.

Anyone else out there had braces? Or gotten stuck together?     

Oh, Shake Weight. All I can think when I see you on TV is how much fun Hal Sparks is gonna have when this comes up on VH-1's I Love the 2000's.  

For those of you who don't know what Shake Weight is...I went to YouTube to find you a video. And found these. 

I don't know what I love more about this clip...Jason Bateman (because he is a. hot and b. crazy about his wife), Ellen, or Ellen making fun of the Shake Weight.  

Well...school starts tomorrow and I'm still officially f-a-t. Or at least not at my comfortable-in-my-own-skin goal weight.    

BUT...the good news is...I burned the flowing traveler's pants. Gone is the fat uniform and in its place are 10...TEN...brand new (and very cute, I might add) outfits. Plus a vintage Kate Spade handbag.

Let's face it. When you're fat, there's NOTHING you hate more than clothes shopping. Am I right? The 3-way mirrors. The fluorescent lighting (which I'm convinced came from the same misogynist who invented panty hose). The clothes that never quite fit in the places you need them to. It's a steamin' hot plate of harsh reality.

I haven't been clothes shopping in I-can't-remember-how-long. So Kara flew down from New York to go with me. I went, kicking and screaming. Quite frankly, I would rather have had a root canal. But then, something magical happened. The stuff of fairy tales and Little Golden Books that chime when you turn the page. It was SO fun. Think Mary Poppins at Macy's. And Nordstrom's.

If you HATE shopping, I highly recommend going with your best, funniest, and most musically inclined friend. Don't go alone! Here's what you get when your best friend goes clothes shopping with you:

1. You don't have to know where you are actually going in any department store. Just keep your head down and focus on the backs of her feet, up the escalator, until you find yourself in the correct department.

2. If you pick up the wrong thing, she will make a face like she just ate a grapefruit until you realize your mistake and throw it down in disgust. Or she'll tell you the jeans you just picked up are the AARP cut. (That really happened, incidentally) 

3. You NEVER have to look at yourself in the mirror because a true friend will stand in front of it and shield you from the bad stuff. 

4. In cases of dressing room break-down, your BFF will break out in show tunes to distract you. First, Annie Get Your Gun. Then, My Fair Lady. And if that doesn't work, Billy Joel.   

5. And forget hanging anything up...you can heave your emotional baggage and pile of throwbacks on her. She will patiently hang up the 127 things that didn't fit while guarding with her life the one perfect thing that did. 

It's a genius plan...clothes shopping with your closest girl friends. It's like an episode of Sex and the City. Or the scene in Cinderella when the baby birds and bunnies flit down to dress the soon-to-be fairy princess. Kara definitely redeemed herself...after forcing me to risk life and limb at the water park while preventing me from getting even a semblance of a tan by hosing me down with the SPF 70. Now I have a whole new wardrobe...for the first time in 10 years. Thanks, Kara Mae!

PS...Nordstrom's is my new favorite department store, by the way. Do you know? If you need alterations, they come to your dressing room! Are you kidding me? Heaven! Seriously, you pop your head out of the dressing room door, the sales lady picks up the phone, and a woman holding safety pins with her teeth and a measuring tape in her hand suddenly appears.  

I never thought I'd say it, but I actually had fun. I've resisted and rebelled against buying clothes for so many years. I always want to wait until I'm at my goal weight. But (and I can't believe I'm going to say this)...sometimes you have to dress for the part before you actually get it.