It's That Flossy Flossy Life

My regular hygenist Andrea is out on medical leave for like six months so my dentist appointment this afternoon was all kinds of weird. 

First I had to tell Chrissy the truth about my tooths - hell no, I don't floss. Obviously.  Andrea never asked me that kind of professional nonsense. Instead, she baked me Hello Kitty cupcakes and we talked between my spits about her feline population at home. Chrissy asked me, "Do you drink coffee?" and I immediately got all defensive about my stained brown teeth.  Look, lady, I just spent five grand for 20/20 vision with my Lasik eye surgery, this gal ain't got no time for fancy pearly whitening. I'll drink my coffee through carnival-striped straws, than you very much. She then asked me if I use mouthwash. Sigh. Chrissy, I already told you I had Mexican for lunch and like practically did your job for you by eating lots of gum on the way here. I got lots of the carnitas out of the crevices because I have the proof in a tissue in my car, OK?  Stop interrogating me with your health questions.

Don't get me wrong.  Chrissy was a sweetheart, but the whole time I felt like I was cheating on Andrea.  Andrea gets me.  She knows Halloween is my sticky ooey gooey time of the year.  She knows I take the lazy way out and use one of those water flossers 'cause I'm too damned lazy to floss and she certainly never asked me if I used mouthwash. What grown adult doesn't use mouthwash?  Even my dentist gave me the old nod to Pomegranate season when she stopped in to check out my mouth.

I supposed I would suspect Chrissy of being a bad dental hygienist if she didn't give me the whole roadshow treatment about taking care of my precious choppers. But I was disappointed in the one dental treatment that I consistently give myself every single morning that she NEVER asked about - I use a tongue scraper.  Doesn't that count for anything?  I noticed she didn't mention how fine my tongue was looking.  You should see the bodily yuckiness that I scrape off of my tongue every morning.  It's DISGUSTING and yet very fascinating all at the same time.  Sometimes I scrape my tongue so hard that I make myself gag.  (Note to self: I should post to the ladies about using tongue scrapers on a sub-Reddit bulimia board). Some mornings I drag down purple goop off my tongue and wonder exactly what I ate the night before?  Grape popsicle? Grape Jelly with my Peanut Butter Sandwich? Grape Skittles? Yea, most likely grape Skittles.

It's just a weird thing breaking in a new dental hygienist.  I mean, she seemed to like me and we did laugh a lot.  She told me about her love of animals and how she carried her pregnancy weight.  We had some moments of shared understanding like when she appreciates her 17-year-old son's bright smile and how she applauded me for getting my dog's teeth professionally cleaned because it's just so important. Chrissy passed the tooth test. She cared more about my teeth than I did, for goodness sakes.

She made me feel guilty enough to consider flossing with actual string vs. a burst of water.  I'll reconsider which mouthwash I buy, but somehow I don't see me sipping my java through a straw.  But she genuinely seemed to care about my oral health and was very nice by letting me into the sticker room so I could pick out a couple "Best Patient" Mickey Mouse stickers for my scrapbook.

After I left, I got out to my car and texted Andrea to tell her how much I missed her and that I felt like I had just cheated on her with Chrissy.  What better time to come clean than at the dentist's office?

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