In beauty is tooth, and in tooth beauty.
Jun. 28th, 2005 05:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfieldSo I had my bi-annual dental cleaning-and-checkup this morning, usually an occasion filled with dread and bleeding gums. But in my quarter-century of dental experience, I have never had such a pleasantly uneventful appointment.
Even Attilla the Hygenist, the floss-wielding sadist who heartlessly savaged my mouth with ninja-like precision during my previous appointment, gave me nothing but glowing praise for the current condition of my choppers. "Wow, your gums aren't even bleeding!" she said as she poked at me agressively with her stainless-steel pik. "And only minimal tartar buildup," she added. I do believe there was a hint of disappointment in her voice as she folded up her collection of gleaming oral torture devices.
No cavities, either, it goes without saying. I have never in my life had a cavity. I don't know how I've managed to avoid it, whether it was my disinclination toward sugary candy or my copious milk intake. But I also eat a lot of sugary cereals and drink a lot of soda, so maybe the real key to cavity prevention is something I'm doing that the ADA hasn't even thought of yet. Like cheese. Or hummus. Or excessive masturbation.
This is not to say that the experience was a total clambake. Attilla likes to employ fairly contemporary technology during the cleaning process, favoring a pressurized water system over the traditional brush. While this is certainly less invasive and painful than the traditional Sharp Pointy Stick, the instrument does emit such an ear-piercing squeal that it sounds like Yoko Ono is being squeezed through a meat grinder in the next room. The "polishing" phase is next, using a different sort of tool than the good old fashioned electric brush. The good news is, this eliminates any need for the industrial Windex-flavored paste reminiscent of so many childhood visits. The bad news is, it uses concentrated amounts of baking soda, leaving your mouth with a semi-permanently salty aftertaste and spraying little white flecks all over your face, shirt, pants and (!) shoes.
When it came time for my actual dentist to give his executive look-see, he was just as complimentary, emitting uncomfortably effusive moans of awe as he performed his examination, followed by an offer to "trade teeth." To this suggestion I chuckled audibly, as if it weren't the weirdest thing anyone had ever said to me. And with that, he gave me the usual gift bag of toothpaste, a toothbrush and some floss, and sent me on my way.
I guess my increased oral hygeine regimen paid dividends this year. Tonight I can fulfill my usual post-checkup ritual of not brushing my teeth, guilt-free. I reserve the right, though, to partake in other anti-cavity measures.
Even Attilla the Hygenist, the floss-wielding sadist who heartlessly savaged my mouth with ninja-like precision during my previous appointment, gave me nothing but glowing praise for the current condition of my choppers. "Wow, your gums aren't even bleeding!" she said as she poked at me agressively with her stainless-steel pik. "And only minimal tartar buildup," she added. I do believe there was a hint of disappointment in her voice as she folded up her collection of gleaming oral torture devices.
No cavities, either, it goes without saying. I have never in my life had a cavity. I don't know how I've managed to avoid it, whether it was my disinclination toward sugary candy or my copious milk intake. But I also eat a lot of sugary cereals and drink a lot of soda, so maybe the real key to cavity prevention is something I'm doing that the ADA hasn't even thought of yet. Like cheese. Or hummus. Or excessive masturbation.
This is not to say that the experience was a total clambake. Attilla likes to employ fairly contemporary technology during the cleaning process, favoring a pressurized water system over the traditional brush. While this is certainly less invasive and painful than the traditional Sharp Pointy Stick, the instrument does emit such an ear-piercing squeal that it sounds like Yoko Ono is being squeezed through a meat grinder in the next room. The "polishing" phase is next, using a different sort of tool than the good old fashioned electric brush. The good news is, this eliminates any need for the industrial Windex-flavored paste reminiscent of so many childhood visits. The bad news is, it uses concentrated amounts of baking soda, leaving your mouth with a semi-permanently salty aftertaste and spraying little white flecks all over your face, shirt, pants and (!) shoes.
When it came time for my actual dentist to give his executive look-see, he was just as complimentary, emitting uncomfortably effusive moans of awe as he performed his examination, followed by an offer to "trade teeth." To this suggestion I chuckled audibly, as if it weren't the weirdest thing anyone had ever said to me. And with that, he gave me the usual gift bag of toothpaste, a toothbrush and some floss, and sent me on my way.
I guess my increased oral hygeine regimen paid dividends this year. Tonight I can fulfill my usual post-checkup ritual of not brushing my teeth, guilt-free. I reserve the right, though, to partake in other anti-cavity measures.
