When you're smiling...

So I hate going to the dentist. I know for most people it is not an enjoyable experience, like going to the movies or being under a tornado watch, but I rank the semi-annual visit to the dentist right up there with law school finals and waxing.

I have been going to my dentist since the toofers first poked through. He is a big guy, but not scary. That is, until he starts scraping around in your mouth. He has never admitted to it, but I think he is color blind; I think he has a hard time distinguishing between pink and white. His gloves also taste bad.

At least the hygienist stopped using bubblegum toothpaste. I don't know why they think kids will enjoy it more if you give them pain that tastes like candy. Especially when it never really tastes like bubblegum—even as a kid, it made me ill. The worst part is that they continued to use the special kids-flavored toothpaste well past the age I could tolerate an actual mint flavor. I had graduated from high school before I had graduated to the adult toothpaste.

Oola and I went out last night with my friend Kara. The goal was to only have one or two martinis; I had to be at the dentist's at 7:30 and I didn't want to be hung-over. Well, under Oola's watchful eye, one or two martinis quickly became five or six martinis. I was drunk when I set the alarm and accidentally set it for 6:30 p.m. At 7:13 I rolled over and looked at the clock. Realizing my mistake, I jumped out of bed and threw on some clothes. Why is it we brush our teeth extra-carefully the morning we go to the dentist? It's not like one brushing is going to make up for six months of not flossing. But, even though I was going to be late, I practically scrubbed me teeth and flossed for good measure. I rinsed and repeated, then remembered that was the directions for shampoo, not toothpaste. I may have had raccoon eyes and Albert Einstein hair, but I was determined to go to the dentist with a Julie Roberts/Jerry Seinfeld smile.

When I got in the chair, I was so exhausted I fell asleep (I really can fall asleep anywhere; see “Beep-beep”). The teeth polishing process is like a massage for my mouth. I didn't even notice when the hygienist went away and Dr. Doom sat down. He stuck the little mirror and little pick in my open, slightly snoring mouth. And I think they should have taught this next bit to him in dental school: warning--do not startle a patient while your fingers are in her mouth--patient bites.

I'm glad these visits only happen every six months. Maybe by December he will have forgotten that I bit him. Unless he wrote it on my chart….