I’m constantly lamenting the state of my appearance before falling out the front door to run errands.  I usually have dough in my hair or frosting on my shirt...which actually, today...I did.  I try to lick it off the spoon before it hits my shirt but today I was unusually slow.

Hubby always makes me feel better about my situation by reminding me “WELL, AT LEAST YOU STILL HAVE ALL OF YOUR TEETH!”

Comforting.

I do have good teeth.  I’ll give him that.  Despite growing up with a mother that served me iced tea so sweet that your spoon would stand straight up in the glass.

I am way overdue for my annual teeth cleaning.  I don't know why I haven't made an appointment, I so look forward to reclining in the faux leather chair while the hygienist fawn over my teeth. 

Last year, after presenting x-rays that were suitable for framing, she began praising my pearly off-whites. But then she began the actual cleaning process.  I took note of the dismay in her audible sighs.  And the inquisition began.  Have you been flossing?

I had to admit that while I was once a champion flosser, the braces that I once had to endure caused me to slack off from the nightly flossing ritual. For five years. I hung my head in shame.

She began with the tisk tisking and telling me what bad shape my gums were in.  And she told a dental joke about how the patient’s teeth were perfect, but the gums had to be replaced.

Bwahahahahaha.

Only I couldn’t laugh because the PICK AX she was using to relieve my teeth of All The Plaque kept me immobilized.

She scraped and dug and tisk’ed some more, and when she mercifully finished, the dentist came in to see the damage. I had Doogie Howser for a dentist.  I really wanted to ask him if he could drive yet, but I feared the sharp instruments that he was in possession of. At about this time I glanced down at the blood spattered lobster bib protecting my shirt, and all I can say is that it was a good thing I was already lying down.

The hygienist made an appointment for me to come back next month FOR A DEEP CLEANING.  WITH AN ANESTHETIC OINTMENT.

Right on about the anesthetic.  But couldn’t I just be put under?

Not long after leaving, I discovered that nothing could touch my teeth without me yelping in pain.  Not even the neighboring teeth in my mouth.

I wish I could tell you that I’ve learned my lesson, but I still don't floss.