Metal in My Mouth, Patience in My Life

It was December 16th, 2025, fifteen days into being 21 years old, when I sat in a dentist’s chair and made a decision I once thought I had outgrown.

In high school, braces seemed childish to me. They were something younger versions of ourselves wore, an awkward rite of passage marked by rubber bands and cafeteria jokes. I convinced myself that I had missed the window. 

But somewhere between turning 21 and approaching my junior spring semester of college, I realized something quietly powerful: I am never going to be younger than I am right now. Waiting for the “perfect time” suddenly felt like another way of saying never.

And so, I said yes.

After a procedure that took less than an hour, I had metal in my mouth. And at that moment, patience was no longer theoretical. It was physical.

As an adult, getting braces feels different because you are more self-aware. You notice how people expect change to be visible, dramatic, and fast, and you begin measuring your own progress against that expectation.

We live within a culture obsessed with before-and-after photos, dramatic glow-ups and overnight success stories. Social media tends to train us to expect transformation to be immediate and visible. But in reality, very little works that way, braces included. Most change happens slowly, quietly, almost invisibly until one day it suddenly feels undeniable.

One day, I noticed that the gap in my front teeth was actually closing. I stopped for a moment in the mirror just to look at it. The shift was subtle, almost easy to miss. And that was what surprised me most. Not that change had happened quickly, but that it had been happening all along without me really noticing.

I had expected the transformation to feel dramatic or obvious. Instead, it felt quiet. The small adjustments were working long before I realized they were.

That moment felt similar to when I was learning how to drive at 16. One day, I was crying after almost running over a turtle, convinced I would never feel confident behind the wheel. But before I knew it, I was driving my parents to Miami. Even that transformation was never as sudden or black and white as it seemed. Growth had been happening quietly in between.

As college students, we rarely allow ourselves to recognize this kind of slow progress. We compare ourselves to classmates who seem more accomplished, to influencers whose lives look polished, or to peers who have had more internships and opportunities than we have. 

I have found that patience is not a skill our generation is encouraged to practice often.Notifications are instant. Streaming is immediate. Communication happens in seconds. Even self-improvement has been packaged into quick-fix challenges and overnight transformations.

Braces, like other things, disrupt that rhythm.They require months, sometimes years, of commitment without immediate results. And that has shifted how I think about growth beyond just my smile.

As students navigate college, careers, and identity, it is easy to feel anxious about the future. We forget to acknowledge how far we have already come. We are NYU students at a university with a single-digit acceptance rate, and we made it here. We overlook the quiet adjustments shaping us daily, the conversations that change our perspectives, the classes that expand our thinking, the small decisions that build our future selves.

Please remember that small progress is still progress.

Beyond the metaphor, there is also something deeply universal about smiles and self-presentation. A smile can communicate more than happiness; it signals confidence, warmth, openness, and sometimes even strength.

I have found that there is truly no hiding my braces when I smile, turning every smile into a small act of vulnerability. At first, I wondered if people would notice or judge me differently. But surprisingly, people have responded with encouragement rather than judgment. When my sisters saw me with braces for the first time, they were so excited and happy that I finally did something that I once was so nervous about. 

This has reminded me that authenticity resonates more deeply than perfection. Showing up confidently as I am has encouraged me to stop hiding my smile. In a culture where adulthood is often defined by appearing put together, braces remind me that transformation is ongoing. I truly believe there is no final, perfected version of ourselves and we are always in progress.

Braces have taught me that transformation rarely looks dramatic in real time.Sometimes it looks like showing up for another appointment, adjusting to the pain and discomfort, dealing with metal poking my gums, and not being able to chew gum.

This tedious progress reveals braces to be a deeper metaphor for growth: the most meaningful transformations often happen slowly, invisibly, and beneath the surface long before anyone notices.

I have faith that one day, I will look back at photos and see the difference clearly. But for now, I am learning to appreciate the process.