Wouldn't you know it, 18 months have passed -- the time documented by my third visit to the dentist.  But this time it wasn't sweet Auntie doing my cleaning, it was a boy *gasp*, or what I thought was a boy because he was asian but apparently was a man.  I'm all excited for that squeaky-clean teeth feeling when 25-year-old, chocolate-eyed cleaning man asks me to step into his office. 

A string of thoughts cross my mind:  Why are you so hot?  Why am I not showered and smelling like beer from Deadbeats Overload? and more importantly Omigawsh why have I not been flossing regularly cause this kid is about to be all up in my business?  Eff my life.

This was supposed to be relaxing.  For me, going to the dentist is like getting a haircut, except instead of massaging my scalp someone is flossing for me (Don't judge, I don't tell you not to have <insert fetish here>).  I love my teeth, been obsessed with my smile since diaper days and have never feared the dentist (even when I had my molars out and looked like a chpmunk for a week.)  That, and I was blessed with fluorinated NY water growing up.  My teeth are Herculean.  Unfortunately, Kris and I decided to prioritize and buy a box of Fruit-by-the-Foot and eat it non-stop on our Maui-venture -gums were vexed.  At least I remembered to brush before running out the door.  (What?  I'm paying them to CLEAN my teeth!)

"Ahhh, why are you in my mouth with all those damn instruments and talking me up right now?" I thought to myself.  On other occasions I'd glisten, but no, he has to talk to me while digging into my canines from behind.

"Do you floss?"
"How often?"
"When I remember, kinda been travelling."  Fail

I'm stuck in that eternal hard place where you want to be honest with your hygienist so he'll tell you how to fix stuff but don't want to tell him you have sub-par flossing skills.  This is why it should have been Aunty.  I wouldn't give two hoots telling her I am faithful to my brushing and flossing for about two weeks after my cleaning before my dental Alzheimers sets in.

"You know you wouldn't have so much bleeding if you stopped smoking cigars, drinking coffee and eating sugar."    Beat.  "Yes, I know."  Weak smile.   I'd also be so much safer DEAD.  Shoulda known this was coming as his first comment when I walked in the door was, "Go to the beach a lot?"  I thought "Duh.  We live on an island."  What came out was a cheerful, "Sometimes."  Ugh, can I help it that I'm Filipina and turn brown in 5 minutes even whilst bathed in SPF 50?  and what does this have to do with my teeth!

Whatever -- lesson learned.  After an hour with (can't remember his name) in my mouth, Dr. Wong comes in and praises my teeth for 2 minutes ("you couldn't get a cavity if you didn't brush your teeth in a month!"  Yuck.) and dismisses me.... finally.  I run out of there with my tail between my legs. 

On a high note, I read my own article in the waiting room (surreal) and Dr. Wong told me he'd read it during his lunch break.  As I pay my bill the nice lady at the desk says, "See you in six months? "

"Yes, but next time -  chick, please."
6/5/2010 02:39:33 pm

I love reading your writing :) That is the best story about going to the dentist that I have ever heard lol


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