I remember seeing a concerned look on my mother’s face when I awoke. A lingering violent smell hung at the edge of my nostrils. Ammonia? The EMT withdrew the ‘spirit of hartshorn’ and asked me "What day is it?" I was a confused 10 yr old kid, but I was certain of the day. After my memory cleared and my wits returned I understood what had happened. I blacked out, and it happened because I was malnourished. I wasn’t eating. My gums were too sore after my weekly "adjustments", as my orthodontist liked to call them.

What does this have to do with Lumineers? Well, before I start at the end, lets start with an abbreviated beginning. Between the ages of ten and seventeen I had two oral operations, eleven teeth removed, and in the end a total of seven years in braces across two different orthodontists with two very different strategies. My teeth looked like Osama Bin Laden’s face after Seal Team 6 shot him. During one of my teeth pulling events, it was recommended by my masochistic orthodontist that four teeth needed to be ripped from my gums. In movie-like fashion, upon hearing my third tooth shatter due to the Hulk-like pressure of the dental pliers I promptly vomited. I find it amusing in retrospect how commonly bile must fly out of patient’s mouths because the dental tech was ready with a banana-split shaped dish complete with head strap.

I finally had my braces removed in high school, yet I was still extremely self-conscious of my smile due to my front teeth being short. My smile was an extremely costly row of chicklets. So after many years of lost smiles, and intoxicated with the idea of a shiny smile, I decided to buy one. When I inquired about a well known procedural veneer the dentist informed me of the process. In that 20-minute discussion all I remember hearing was how my teeth would be whittled down into the shape of an asparagus - next! The more cosmetic, and enamel-sparing approach, is a porcelain Lumineer.

According to dozen or so websites, and my own experience, Lumineers are ultra-thin, highly translucent, procedurally painless, and durable up to twenty years. They’re what fingernails are for your teeth. Ultimately, I decided on Lumineeers because they’re completely reversible and there’s no grinding down on what’s left of my healthy tooth structure. My natural teeth remain intact and strong. So, I purchased eight upper Lumineers at a price of $8800 while living in Las Vegas in 2008.

While I have a documented history of dental work, that doesn’t make me an expert in the field. Only an extremely sensitive critic of quality dental work given my miserable past experiences. I hope over the next few paragraphs to manage your expectations so you can make an informed decision.

I was told there would be two visits. The first visit was painless and more technical in nature. The appointment involved a thorough cleaning, deciding color, and taking an upper mold. The cleaning was extremely thorough to reduce the mold’s imperfections, which means the dentist drew blood once again without an apology. Possibly, the only field in the world that can get away with this behavior, but I digress. Since all tooth enamel is stained to some degree, we did a side-by-side using generic pre-stained Lumineers to find the most natural look. The mold went smoothly, and was sent off-site to the Lumineer manufacturer. The process took approximately a week to make eight perfectly stained porcelain teeth. The dentist had never performed a L procedure, and my alarmed conscious reported this daily to the front of my mind up until T-Day. Naturally, I held some reservations as I entered the dentist office, but I’d crossed the Rubicon and there was no turning back. Any pent up negative karma hovering over my soul waiting within striking distance wouldn’t uphold its reputation as opportunistic if it didn’t capitalize on this very moment.

I was called to the chair after a few moments, and walking that sterile mile I felt a wave of finality set in. Finally, my smile arrived! Tension gone, replaced with pride. On a vanity scale buying a smile is the lowest rung, next to his dirty drugged out cousin, Mr. Plastic Surgery. No thoughts of pretentiousness, instead, I felt humbled that I would be able to smile more often. Tell me how many people you affected with a well-delivered smile versus a profile of a perfectly shaved nose? The dentist didn’t waste anytime. He brought in the molding of my chicklet casted teeth, and there they were the row of porcelain brilliance! A quick viewing was all as he showcased them as a mannequin does clothing through a window. Look, but do not touch! I thought it was a bit ironic as I was drawn back in my chair that the porcelain God would be hovering over me this fine Friday afternoon. Wait, did that make me sound like a drunk?

Fast forward through dental tech follow-up cleaning (or training?), dentists prepping Lumineers in the back, and we arrive at the penultimate moment. The dentist always recommends a quick fitting to manage expectations of the day’s outcome. Should they not seat well, not meet the proper translucence, or a myriad of other possibilities, the patient may end up with a smile only a mother would still love. The dentist returns with my mouth in his hand, covered in Lumineers, and quickly takes a seat. The confidence I have in him to get this right the first time can only be gauged in those few moments he opens his mouth to talk. I’m aligned with his demeanor, and after he chats me up for a minute its apparent it’s just another day for him. Whew. So, he pops all six of my Lumineers into my mouth, and…perfect fit!

Wait, six?

He asks me how they feel. I tell him, "like there’s only six?" He returns my misguided question with a follow-up statement that evaporates any confidence I have in this man wearing a white coat, "There were only six, right?" Um, FALSE!?! You were there when I said I wanted eight, there when I paid for each of them, but more importantly you walked in only moments earlier with EIGHT in your hand! My blood pressure could have caused the clotted dental-tech inflicted wounds in my gums to break open again, but instead I calmed myself down and we both came to an agreement as to how many lumineers were on the molding. Apparently, our enemy was subtraction.

Two lumineers have gone missing. My entire mouth felt alone. The six lumineers dangling in my mouth felt independent of each other, like an incomplete puzzle. I couldn’t find the long awaited moment I was waiting for as it was sunk by the mathematical anomaly sitting next to me wearing a white coat. So the tooth hunt began….

A rally cry was made, and every available dental tech and even the guy in the white coat, searched every corner for $2200 in missing, perfectly stained, porcelain teeth. Several times I thought maybe I should take part, but instead I just sat there. I wanted no part in this tragedy. One would be found under a desk ten minutes after word spread, while number eight would be put into MIA status. One hour after the search ended, the defeated man wearing a white coat asked me whether I’d like to wait for another tooth to be made, or push forward with Lucky Number Sleven. Pulling out my best Tom Sizemore quote, I quipped ‘let’s get it over with.’

The procedure, surprisingly, went flawless. I was in the chair for little over three hours, of which a full one-hour involved the actual procedure. The other two hours were obviously the pre-game show of incompetence, and meant to shake me up. Possibly testing my ability to stay calm under duress. Either way, when it was all said and done I felt fantastic! Despite a slight learning curve due to a pronunciation modification I had no trouble holding a conversation. I was eating within an hour after the procedure. One week later the other tooth arrived, and was put on fairly quickly.

During the first month my teeth felt extremely large, and one tooth felt a bit sharper than I wanted it as I got used to the new shapes in my mouth. Mostly, it was perception since the fitting was a natural shape. After a few months I stopped noticing. Approximately two months after the procedure one did break, and wouldn’t you know it, it was the sharp one. I’d like to say it was my fault, but I bit down on an apple peel and the sharp Lumineer edge caught my bottom tooth. Instead of having it replaced I had it shaved down since the break didn’t cause any cracks.

Overall, my experience with Lumineers has been positive. I smile a lot more often. I enjoy smiling actually. I love to show them off. If you were thinking about getting Lumineers I would offer this advice. Make sure your dentist has done a few procedures. Don’t buy into the stock photos in their lair! Also, call a few dental clinics and ask about the prices. I went with the closest dentist in my local area because I was in a rush to get them done. Lastly, you don’t need eight, when six will do! I only went with eight cause of how small my teeth looked around the six they initially recommended. The ultimate moment is after they’re on, you smile, and you hear the compliment, "He’s got a nice smile."

*Alas, the other tooth would later be found stamped thoroughly into the office carpet a week later, split in half. Dead. Thank God for loopholes in Karma.