Guest blogger Lizzie: My daughter got braces a few months ago, and watching her experience a mouthful of metal brought me back to my middle-school years when I got my own braces ... the first time. Oh, how I had loved them then .... But the second time around? Not so much.

Over the years, my teeth had shifted and a slight gap had developed between my front two. So during a recent appointment for my daughter, I asked her orthodontist about closing it. He said it would take eight weeks, and then quoted me a surprisingly reasonable price. Awesome! Forty-five minutes later, I walked out with six brackets across my top front teeth. It all happened so fast, it didn't seem real ... until I got in the car and inspected my smile in the rearview mirror.

Me: "Sh*t."

My daughter: "Mom!"

Are you kidding?! I wanted to say much worse. I wanted to kick myself for being so impulsive. Why, when he'd offered to put them on then and there, did I not tell him I'd sleep on it? What an idiot! That's not like me -- I'm organized! I'm a planner! What the HELL had I been thinking? On the way home I was panicking, thinking about the two-month mistake I'd just made. By the time I pulled in the driveway, my head was throbbing so badly, I wanted to fall into an Advil haze (is there such a thing?) and go to bed. Alas, the mother of three children doesn't get that luxury, does she? Especially when her husband is caught in Los Angeles traffic and won't be home in time for dinner. (Or to cook it, unfortunately.)

I heated up leftovers and warned my kids that if they made a noise, I'd ground them forever. It didn't work. Finally eight o'clock rolled around and I got them into bed. And then, after breaking the news to my hubs that I had just gotten BRACES, I got into my own bed and had nightmares about going back to middle school.

The next morning, I felt better -- although everything from the neck up was sore. I decided that there was nothing to do but move forward and try to get myself in a better mood. What does any organized person do at times like these? She makes a list -- in this case, a list of the pros and cons for impulsively getting freaking BRACES:

Cons:

• My teeth are sore and I've had a headache for 14 hours, but that will subside in a while. Until then, there's Advil and my handy knife and fork (which I used to eat a hamburger last night and a banana this morning).

• If I have red wine or coffee, my clear rubber bands will turn yellow, which in turn may cause my teeth to appear yellow. Or yellowish, says the woman who plunked them over my brackets. Hmm. I guess I can live with that, but not without coffee or red wine. (Well, I could. I just really, really don't want to.)

• The brackets on my eyeteeth are poking the inside of my lips. I forgot how these suckers hurt! Thankfully, I have my little box of wax that I can put over them. It's awesome: I smile, and I have not only a mouthful of BRACES, but of blobs of wax.

• In combination with the zits I have (Mother Nature's little gift after I quit breastfeeding), these braces are like a joke. I might as well put on neon-stitched Gloria Vanderbilts and "Farrah Fawcett" my hair.

• I feel like "Ugly Betty" -- only without the Guadalajara! poncho.

• I think I hear a lisp.

Pros:

• My husband actually likes me with braces. He thinks they make me look geeky, and somehow that equates to sexy in his book. Weird, but I'll take it.

• Here's something unexpected: I live in Los Angeles, where women pay to make their lips look plumper. I have always envied women with those beautiful pouty lips (the God-given ones, anyway), and now I have them! The braces push out my top lip just a smidge, but it's enough to make a noticeable difference. Bonus!

• My daughter loves that her mother has braces at the same time she does. We were swapping stories this morning on the way to school: "I forgot how much braces hurt and how hard it is to eat," I said. "Tell me about it," she replied. "But don't worry, Mom, that goes away in a little while." She would know.

• That niggling little gap in my front teeth will not be there to taunt me in a short eight weeks. It will be over before you know it .... It will be over before you know it ....

More cons than pros, but I suppose I can make it 51 more days. For the next seven weeks, I'll avoid corn on the cob like the plague and try to endure -- er, enjoy -- life as a girl gone wired.