Right now, I'm in the throes of some major reworking of my teeth. And most of it is because I'm some kind of freak of genetics (thanks, Dad). I had a third set of teeth. Of course, nobody realized it until some of the third set started growing in. Now most people are familiar with the process that occurs when baby teeth are being replaced with adult teeth - the baby tooth falls out, and the adult tooth grows in. Not so with the third set. The second set just stays in, jockeying for position with the newcomers.
So I ended up having major surgery when I was a kid to remove the teeth that hadn't grown in (which was the birth of my hatred of dentistry), but there wasn't much they could do about the chaos that had already occurred. So I've been walking around with extra teeth (and a really screwed-up-looking smile) for about 20 years.
Finally I decided, fuck it, I'm going to get them fixed. Just slap some braces on and wrangle them into position, right? Stupid me, of course it wouldn't be that simple. Some teeth have gotta go. On both sides. Top and bottom. On two separate visits to the dentist. THEN I can have the wires put into the brackets that have just been sitting on my teeth looking stupid for the last 3 weeks.
The upside (I knew I would find one if I looked hard enough) is that having all that work done on my mouth has been a great unintentional weight-loss tool. I can't even eat, much less overeat, anything more solid than potato soup. But I can fit into clothing sizes that I haven't worn in years. So I guess things even out.