When Suddenly, A Speech Impediment Is Thrust Upon You.

I WAS SO GLAD . .
. . to get my braces off. A stick of gum, a few notes on the trumpet, and a week later, I was still glad. Of course, I had my one-week-follow-up orthodontist appointment.
WHICH IS WHEN . .
. . I got my retainer. And my orthodontist told me that she was selling her baby grand and was I interested? I would have politely replied, EXCEPT that I had a hunk of plastic in my mouth.
"Hm, that's weird," the Doc told me. My heart skipped a beat. Would I need my braces back? "Did you ask for a color?"
Whew.
"No, I think I just asked for clear."
"Well, it looks like he started to mix yellow and something else in, then remembered. Oops!" My orthodontist says, handing me a chunky thing that looked like it better belonged in a McDonald's Happy Meal than in my mouth for several months. It had nasty veins of a sickly yellow in it. I retained--er, refrained--from making a face.
"Thank you." The words were GARBLED. I couldn't enunciate. And I had to wear this all the time? I sounded like I had a bad Catalan Spanish accent. What happened to "s" and "d"?
SO, I DECIDED THAT I'D NEVER . .
. . wear my retainer at school or on the phone. I guess I'll have to get used to getting quieter at home.
All part of the teenage awkward phase, right? With my luck, the lack of babbling will be interpreted as 'unusual emotional state' or the symptom of some really rare (nonexistent?) disorder.
WHERE'S THE MORAL . .
. . of the story? How's this: Choose two parents with perfect teeth and never get braces.
I should put my speech impediment back in now.
Cheers, K