Open wide

I had a dentist appointment yesterday, something that normally wouldn’t bother me much. I don’t usually mind going to the dentist because I have magical teeth. Yes, that’s right.

I am obsessed with dental hygiene. I’ll blame this on my parents because when I was a child they forced me to spend about 20 minutes daily brushing my teeth. They seemed to believe that good teeth were the key to happiness and success in life.

So I don’t have any fillings, and that didn’t seem like such a big deal when I was younger. Now that I”ve gotten older, I have kind of a competition going with myself. How long can I keep this up? Will I someday be 90 and still have these good teeth? Could I set a world record for teeth? (For those who don’t know, I have a seriously bizarre competitive streak.)

The hygienist yesterday didn’t know me, but she complimented my teeth right away. OK, clearly she knows magnificence when she sees it. We were off to a good start. Then she started to clean my teeth with the little plaque-scraper pokey thing.

“Your teeth are very clean on the front and back but not so much in between,” she said.

She stabbed at the supposed plaque. I think she wasn’t able to see the difference between plaque and gums because she was scraping away my gums. She didn’t have on glasses. I tried to look into her eyes to see if she had contacts because her vision seemed to be very bad.

She asked if I flossed often, and I told her I did. She said she would show me the proper way to floss. She put the floss in and then yanked it up into my brain. I think she knocked out a few of the cells holding the remnants of high school calculus.

“You need to make a C-motion like this,” she said.

Then she returned to her pokey tool, and OH. MY. GOSH. the blood. I may not look it, but I’m pretty tough. This was intolerable though. And there had been no mention of blood transfusions at the start of this. No forms of consent had been signed. What if I passed out? What if I died right there in the massaging dental chair? Not the worst way to go, but not what I had in mind either.

At the end, she told me the dentist was running behind and that I could wait if I wanted but that there wasn’t much point because my teeth looked great. Really? Do I have any teeth left in my mouth? I think you might have cut them out.

So for those of you who hate going to the dentist, I am truly sorry. Maybe I’ve been unsympathetic in the past, but now I understand.