Perfectly Respectable Chompers

When the quarantine started, I looked in the mirror and said, “Hey, YOU, this is your opportunity, YOU CAN DO IT!”

When trying to motivate oneself, it’s important to speak in loud and encouraging tones.

In March, I made a list of goals.

Write a novel, run a marathon, make sourdough from a starter…

(Haven’t started, too long, they sell bread at the store…)

But this was by far my greatest disappointment.

“Tomorrow, definitely tomorrow,” was what I kept telling myself.

Then yesterday, it happened.

The Grim Reaper called.

“How about Monday at 10?” She asked.

“Okay,” I said, sniffling.

The 11th hour had arrived.

It was time to floss.

Yes, it’s true.

My name is January, and I don’t floss.

Except the night before a dental appointment.

Now, before you get all high and mighty and think I’m some swamp ogre, you should know…

I have perfectly respectable chompers.

They’re straight, they’re white, they’re clean.

I just don’t like to floss.

It feels abusive.

And after I floss for the first time in months, it looks abusive.

Like I went 10 rounds with Rocky. And I didn’t win.

(Of course I didn’t win. It’s Rocky!)

“Maybe try a mint-flavored floss,” my friend Kim suggested. 

Lisa, another pro-flosser, added, “I like Listerine.”

“The mouthwash?” I asked.

They shook their heads.

The two of them threw out more recommendations: Glide, Tom’s, Oral-B (Hey, that’s the one I use twice a year!), Radius Vegan Soft Floss…

They’re making Vegan dental floss?

Are we supposed to be eating our floss?

If so, I’d like mine bacon-flavored.

“I’ve had the same Oral-B forever,” I told them.

Sigh.

“You know floss expires?” Lisa said.

This flossing seminar had given me a lot to think about.

Sunday night I took out my elderly floss.

How did it go?

I guess as well as any crime scene goes.

Monday morning I arrived at 9:45.

Best to impress with punctuality as I would be disappointing them shortly.

Once I got settled in the chair, my dentist, Dr. B., began prodding my gums with a smaller version of what the Grim Reaper carries. 

He then used his one non-threatening tool, the adorable doll mirror, to get a closer look.

After a few “Hmms,” he removed the instruments and smiled.

“So, have we been flossing?” He asked.

One of us has.

I nodded. “Yep, definitely. I mean, not all the time, but uh…sometimes…Can we turn down that light?”

“It’s important to floss,” he said, reaching for his ultrasonic cleaning drill.*

The drill revved to life with the sound of a Texas Chainsaw.

But not as soothing.

For the next 30 minutes my teeth and I enjoyed Dr. B’s favorite game, Sadistic Plaque Exploration.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I PROMISE TO START FLOSSING!

Finally, we moved on to polishing. 

Ah, the sweet relief of minty gravel.

“You can rinse,” Dr. B said, signifying we were done.

I picked up the Dixie Cup of Listerine. “Did you know Listerine makes floss?”

He smiled.

I was fooling no one.

And then it occurred to me.

The dentist/patient relationship has to be the most dysfunctional of all relationships.

I lie to you. You torture me. I give you money. 

Six months later, you send me a postcard with Dancing Molars and we do it all over again.

Leaving the office, I peered inside my plastic bag of goodies.

A green toothbrush.

My favorite color!

Colgate Toothpaste.

Travel size, fun!

A pamphlet on Gum Health.

I know what I’ll be reading tonight.

And…

Oral-B Floss.

See you in six months.

*My flossing friends had never heard of this tool. Apparently, this is the punishment for us non-flossers.