Braces: My Worst Nightmare

Last night I wore my retainer to bed.... and I slept with it secured in my mouth the entire night. I can't remember the last time this has happened. Just in case you were wondering, my mouth has been throbbing all day. I can barely move my jaw. Maybe this means I should wear it more? Probably. Will I? Definitely not.
I have a love/hate relationship with my little pink retainer. I know that it serves me well in keeping my teeth nice and straight, but it also takes me back to those miserable afternoons spent lying on a moldy green plastic covered chair, holding back the tears and silently cursing my orthodontist for digging at my mouth and making my gums bleed, with FM 100 soft hits blaring in the background.
My orthodontist was a nut. He seemed like a normal guy at first, but after he impressed my parents at the beginning consultation, and they turned me over to his care, his true character was unleashed. He was literally crazy. First of all, the man never wore gloves when he worked on his patients. Never. If that wasn't bad enough, he had the hairiest fingers I've ever seen. I hate to get too graphic, but he would shove his bare (most likely un-sanitized) fingers in my mouth, and every time I choked on the inch-long hair. It was a horrific experience, to say the least. One that I wouldn't wish on anybody.
Not only did Dr. B lack all sense of personal hygiene, he also took absolute pleasure in hurting me, and all of his other adolescent victims for that matter. He always got this wild look in his eyes, and this devilish grin on his face when I cried out in pain. When my orthodontist appointment rolled around every month, I always hoped and prayed that my mother would forget, or I'd make up great excuses to get out of going. Sometimes, they actually worked.