Ok, I’ll come right out an say it: I don’t brush as much as I perhaps should. Chalk it up to laziness or my distaste for mint, but I don’t. It’s a fact, it’s not changing, we’re not discussing that right now.
I am also loathe to go to the dentist. I am not put off by the pain or the prodding or the instruments. It’s the guilt I fear, those nerve-wracking minutes before you know whether or not you have a cavity. And I’m not so much concerned for the health and well being of my teeth and gums as I am how I come across to the dentist. As infrequent as I see him, I don’t want to disappoint the guy. He seems so damn sincere! Innocence like that doesn’t come around so often. Yet, even this mental deterrent doesn’t inspire me to brush more. Beyond the minutes spent reclining in the vinyl plushness of the dentist’s office (and the minutes spent by me right now), I never think of dental guilt. Oh, human nature. If only Twain were alive to read this! But, alas, he succumbed to the greatest of human foibles: death.
Nonetheless, I try to make up for lack of brushing in the two years between dentist visits. (People try to tell me I should go every six months. Please. If I wanted that kind of guilt I’d make retarded children steal seeing-eye dogs.). So I brush like crazy for about a week before my appointment. I seem to do a pretty good job with my dental cramming. My last visit was flawless. No cavities or tartar buildup or gum disease. I totally fooled my dentist, whose only advice to me was to brush a bit softer. Lucky for the other babies born the same minute as he was. He got the sucker assignment.
But then I thought, if this is all it takes to fool my dentist, do I really want to be going to this dentist? I mean, this quack thinks I floss 3 times a week. What if I had told him I rarely ever floss? Would he have looked harder and maybe found some small, pre-cavitous decay? Am I doing myself a disservice with my dishonest dental hygiene? Are not my teeth and brain at odds with one another, my poor teeth outlandishly out gunned (good work, brain!)? Answers: yes. But my teeth are in good company. My teeth, standardized tests, and Trivial Pursuit; a happy and ignorant triad.
I guess it’s ok, though. Two years from now I may have forgotten this little snag, and I’ll just continue on my path of dental dishonesty. I could, of course, try to brush more. But I’m already in bed, and I’m so darn comfortable. Yawn.