Last Thursday I went to the dentist and learned that my gums had receded 2mm in certain spots. The hygienist assured me for someone who had braces that the recession was not totally uncommon nor was it anything to be particularly alarmed about as long as my gums don't continue to recede. She said this to prepare me for her next statement: "Once you're gums recede, they never come back."
Thankfully, the hygienist didn't try to make the futile effort of conversation as others have in the past, so after her comments both of us had this marginally awkward moment to internalize on our lives; mine went something like this:
My immediate thoughts were, "Well, my gums don't feel freakish or any different than I could ever remember, yet apparently they are, and barring any freak accidents or years of poor dental hygiene, my gums against my teeth won't ever change again." The hygienist was still examining my teeth, so I was unable to get to feel what forever felt like.
Finally, the initial examination was over and a few minutes later, as I liked my gums and felt the contours of my mouth far more intensely than I had ever before, I realized this was the first time someone had ever told me that I would never change or grow beyond where I was at that point. The way something feels now is how it will continue to feel forever. At 19 years old, I am coming to realize that my physical growth is coming to an end. Soon I will only be traveling on momentum rather than charge.
Sure there will be aesthetic changes like weight, muscle, organ, nose, and hair amounts, but structurally I am at my end. I might not have hit peak performance yet, but I'm certainly not far away from it.
While still in the stages of adolescence and having been in it for 7-10 years, all I've known is physical change and growth. The realization that it will soon all be over is scary. I think it is odd since most people seem to be scared of change, yet I'm worried about changing away from change. I'm worried about going nowhere and being stuck without growth.
Of course, this is all just physical growth. I'm not counting mental growth, which I'd say will probably be more personally enriching. I'm also not counting deterioration, which is assuming I'll properly maintain myself and that nothing bad will ever happen to me. (And you know what assuming does, right? It makes an ass out of you and ... ing...well, you in any event.) So in fifty years, when I lick my gums, I'll want them to feel the same because anything else will mean that I've messed up somewhere between now and then.
However, I think this fear can apply to all aspects of my life.
Do I want to feel like I do right now for the rest of my life?
A quick digression about dentist chairs:
While dentist chairs are not uncomfortable, I've never been at ease in one. The factors of just being at a dentist and worried about the diagnosis are not why I am diseased, neither is it the overhanging crane light constantly in my eyes, the lead vest that protects my chest when the x-rays are actually being shot into my head, nor the dried lips from having the hygienist and dentist poke around in my mouth. The main reason for my disease is that I can never anticipate when the comfy chair I'm sitting in is going to suddenly lower me down or spring me up.
And back to the story:
It's a rite of passage to feel this way; I've been assisted by family, friends, teachers, nature, and government, but now all of those hands are letting go slowly, and I will soon be left with nothing to really have as a fall-back option. (So stay in school, kids!) If I’m not content with how I am now, then I am near the end of where I can change easily or make major modifications.
I think the real world is intimidating (I also think that people who use the term real world are condescending pricks even if they are right), but I'd never fully realized that you go into it with what you have and anything you don't have is extraordinary hard to go back and get. People can really only develop and cultivate what is already available to them. Anything I’m unhappy about concerning myself will soon be what I am stuck with if I don’t try and correct it now.
So, I will try to work on everything I am unhappy with; although, I hope I am more successful than Benjamin Franklin.
Then the dentist told me that I had no cavities, I would need my wisdom teeth taken out semi-soon, and he was glad that I was flossing. As his words sank in, he pushed a button and the chair shot me upright. 
