I Lied to the Dentist Today
Twice a year, we do the dance. Today, I won.
I studied acting, comedy, improv, and performance in my 20s.
Not in high school. Not in college. After all that.
During the “adulting process.”
I graduated with a business degree and a web design job, and I thought to myself, “Nah, I’m ready for my close-up.” (I wasn’t)
I studied Shakespeare at the (clears throat) Royal Academy of Drrrramatic Art in London twenty years ago.
I don’t do too much acting these days—an over-the-top bedtime reading for the kids every now and then.
My wife might say that I act like I’m listening, but I’ve read the reviews, and my performance is not convincing ANY of the critics.
However!
I bring ALL my acting training to bear TWICE A YEAR for an Off-Off-Broadway production of the play “Why, Yes, I HAVE Been Flossing.”
Is there anything MORE motivating than the text reminder that you have an upcoming dentist visit?
You could read an ENTIRE library of Tony Robbins books, host a corporate retreat with Brene Brown, and hire Andrew Huberman as your personal in-house trainer, and you wouldn’t come CLOSE to feeling the motivational power of that one text.
Every time I get it, I think, “I have six days to trick the dental hygienist into thinking I’ve been flossing like a pro for six months (like she told me to do last time).”
It’s like an Oceans 11 heist, only I’m both the thief AND the casino. I lose either way.
wHy dO i DO tHi$?
It’s not like it works!
Whenever I’m asked to donate blood to the Red Cross, I ALWAYS say NO because I ALREADY donate a full pint to the dentist every time.
I always get the hygienist who’s either a) having a bad day, or b) was trained by the KGB to interrogate prisoners during the Cold War, or c) BOTH.
(een Russian ak-cent)
“You’ll geeve me those nu-cle-ar launch codes or I’ll mine Uranium from your gums with this tiny mouse sword from The Tale of Despereaux.”
“How do you even know that movie?”
“The 2008 masterpiece? I may torture for a living, but I’m not heartless.”
A few years ago, I showed up at 7:15 AM, vowing to set a chippy, positive tone for my torture session cleaning appointment.
Me: “Oh wow, it’s early. Thanks for being here. How are you doing this morning?”
Her: “My brother just died. I took the early shift so I can fly home tonight.”
Me: “Oh.”
Her: (rips a foot of barbed wire from the drawer) “Ready to floss?”
I “donated” TWO pints that day.
Tools of the Trade
And the tools keep improving. Who is continuing to come up with new, advanced torture devices?
There used to be a little water sprayer to gently rinse the gum area. That seems to do the job.
Now they pump the entire Colorado River’s worth of water through a nozzle the size of a grasshopper’s penis.
The water pressure level cannot be measured. It is infinity PSI. Yeah, it’s literally one divided by zero. #mathjoke
It’s NOT okay.
It’s like they’re sandblasting my teeth, trying to discover if there’s a Michelangelo’s David hiding underneath the enamel.
Does anyone NOT suffer this fate?
Who walks into the House of Pearly Whites and hears, “Well done, my good and faithful servant”??
Who ARE these dental savants?
Do they wear little HWJF wristbands?
How Would Jesus Floss? (Spoiler alert. He’d be perfect.)
(Re-)Setting The Bar
Truth time.
Today, I came up with a new plan.
Instead of pretending like I had flossed and water-piked and mouthwashed and whatever other bonkers things we all have to do now…
…I set the expectations real low.
I said (and I quote), “I won’t be the BEST mouth you’ll see today, but—fingers crossed—I won’t be the WORST.”
I could have set the bar much lower.
“Have you been flossing?”
“Yes, I’ve flossed every day this week, with a Fruit Roll-Up.”
“What?”
“Yes, and I’ve packed my gums with a now-hardened paste of Nerds, brown sugar and Necco wafer crumbles. You’ll have a lot to chip away with your mouse sword.”
“Mouse sword?”
“Don’t worry, before that, I jammed a hundred thousand corn kernels in there, like I’m lining my pants for a very cold winter.”
“Tina, I’m gonna need some backup in here.”
I didn’t go that far, but my tactic worked.
The hygenist dude said (and again, I quote), that I had “great-looking teeth and only slightly pink gums.”
Slightly???
A miracle.
Christmas in August.
(And yes, this was my first-ever hygienist man, and we both laughed about how every song was a lady anthem, like someone had told Pandora to make a playlist from Shania Twain’s “Man, I Feel Like a Woman.” I’m not an alpha male who requires “Enter Sandman” in the air and football jerseys on the wall, but come on.)
“Definitely not the WORST mouth I’ll see today.”
I did it, you guys.
Twice a year, I show up to the dentist.
And we do the dance.
The flossing dance.
Not that flossing. The other one.
And today, I won.
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But did you cap it off with 1 more little lie of "I'll be better about it next time!" ?