Welcome to Goofball Central: Retainer Edition

If you have been reading my blog for any amount of time, you probably know that I once longed to cover up my extreme dorkiness. My 26 years of wisdom have changed my mind, however, and I am now trying to embrace it.

Theatre geek? Check. Irrational fears? Check. Irrevocable evidence that I'm not cool or fun? Check.

And now, for your dorkiness pleasure, my high school retainer:

I call it my Disco Sumo.

My orthodontist was a beachy kind of dude, and he had a really laid-back perspective on retainers. No longer did the Pepto pink version rule--you could have any combination of background and stickers that your heart desired.

But I didn't have any desires coming from my heart. I flipped through each page protector of a huge folder, filled with stickers ranging from Sailor Moon to classic hand grenades, but nothing jumped out at me. And the further I got, the more I realized that I was going to have to just put my name on it and call it a day.

Enter the sumo wrestler sticker.

He was on one of the last pages, and as soon as I saw it, I knew he needed some multi-colored glitter. He needed to get his disco on. And I needed to have him.

What a head-shakingly embarrassing nerd alert.