‘D’ is for ‘Dentist’…

Can you guess what this post is about?

Today is Wednesday. Anybody that knows me even a little bit, knows how fervently I believe that Wednesday is a crap day. It just is. I’ve been saying that right here since the inception of this blog. PROOF.

There is no “hump” in Wednesday; there is a great big concrete mountain slammed down in the front of your car that negotiating around puts your life in peril in every Wednesday.

Wednesday is Garbage Day around here. That’s not a metaphor – that is when my trash has to go out on the curb, but because it falls on Wednesday, 9 times out of 10, it doesn’t get done.

I was born on a Wednesday. I’ll bet that ruined Wednesday for my mom, too…

For all of those reasons, a while back, I started trying to schedule my dentist appointments to fall on Wednesdays. No, not for the reason that you’re probably thinking, either… I want to see my dentist on Wednesday because my dentist makes Wednesday better.

I’m not even remotely kidding – I now equate going to the dentist with going to the spa. I really, really, do. Because they spoil me rotten.

If I need actual “work” done – which is less likely now, because a few years back, I actually began to take care of my teeth –

(Floss Your Teeth, People!)

– a nice lady brings me a hot bean bag and places it gently under my neck.

Another nice lady (or maybe it’s the same one, I don’t know, by then my eyes are usually closed) brings me a blanket and tucks me in…

Somebody removes my glasses and puts a pair of shades on my face, so that I can look groovy-cool with my mouth hanging open and drool sliding down my chin.

I’m also always offered headphones, which I always turn down, because I want to hear the dentist and his assistant talk – they crack me up.

Then my kind and gentle dentist comes along and shoots my face full of spectacular drugs.

I love going to the dentist. He’s not just kind and gentle, either – he’s funny. And anybody that knows me, knows how much I appreciate “funny”.

The last time he got me stoned, he and his assistant spent the whole appointment discussing the flooding in the area, and how they were gonna bring a boat to work and tie it up outside the window in case they needed to escape the building from the second floor. Then they got arguing about who got to get in the boat with them. I told them they’d better let me in that boat with them if they expected me to pay the bill, but of course it came out sounding like “Ooo eher leh eee ih ah oah,” and they actually understood me (they also said I could get in the boat, so I continue to pay my bills. So far. We’ve had a lot of rain this year, and I may need to call them on that promise.).

The last time I got my teeth cleaned (and I go every three months, because when I smarten up, I reeeaaally smarten up, man!), I told the hygienist I liked the other girls better because they spoil me with hot neck-rolls, and blankets, and sunglasses, and music, and she stood up and left the room. When she returned, she was carrying a hot neck-roll and a blanket and told me all I had to do was ask…

Spoiled, I tell you! Right rotten!

Today, I got a warning… she was scraping all that crap off my really crappy disgusting teeth when she hit a sensitive spot and nearly wowza’d me right out of the chair. She stopped scraping.

“Are you using a whitening agent on your teeth?”

“Uhhhh… no…?”

“A whitening toothpaste, even?”

“Uhhh…. yes…?

…is that bad…?”</p?

"Well… possibly…. It might be what's causing that sensitivity to get worse."

"Seriously?! What should I be using?”

“Anything that doesn’t say ‘whitening’ on the tube.”

Seriously?! What am I supposed to do with the two tubes of the best toothpaste known to modern tooth-brushing that I -just – bought?!”

And she laughed! Like she thought I was joking! “Give it to Kyla,” she said.

This concerned me. I just spent a bzillion dollars on that kid’s mouth, what with braces and oral surgery, etc, etc, and my hygienist wants me to erode her teeth out of her head with whitening toothpaste when I’m not allowed to do the same? I said as much to the normally nice hygienist, and she laughed at me again!

“Oh, no; it won’t hurt her teeth! It’s only as you age and your teeth start to descend, and the roots start to become exposed…”

In other words, my normally nice hygienist basically just called me “long of tooth”. Might as well have called me a snarl-toothed old woman.

She called me OLD, dammit!!

So I told her I was going to have her fired.

Just about then, my kind and gentle dentist stepped in to examine my crappy teeth and I told him I wanted the normally nice hygienist fired.

And he did! He fired her right in freaking front of me!

Never mind that she laughed, and then he hired her right back again – he fired her when I asked him to, so I know I am one important spa client, thank you very much.

Then the back-to-nice again hygienist mentioned my increased sensitivity and the use of whitening toothpaste, and the dentist grimaced.

“Every time I see those commercials that show charts with progressively white teeth in 3-6 weeks, I just shudder,” he said. Backed the hygienist right up, he did. Bastard.

On my way out, I said to him, “She called me old, and you laughed. Now I’m going to blog about you both.” I figured that would show ’em.

He said, “You blog? *I blog!” And then we got talking about our blogs. And then they asked for my blog address. Hopefully I will have gained two new readers and not a lawsuit…

But my dentist’s shuddering over progressively white teeth charts brings me to that picture up at the top – that was my “before” picture to test the whitening power of my now-favouritest of favourite of all toothpastes. I liked it so much that I haven’t used anything else since, and I forgot to actually take anymore pictures to see if it actually makes my teeth any whiter.

So I took this today, when I got home:


Part of me wants to say they’re whiter, and part of me can’t see any damned difference. Mostly I notice new wrinkles. And my beard is longer. Dammit, I’m old.

Anyway, I promised to get different toothpaste and give the old (best) stuff to my daughter (who is not long of tooth), but I found the whole expedition confusing.

It was all I could do not to buy a crate of the best most goodest toothpaste in the whole world…

But I didn’t – noticing the box said both “sensitive” and “whitening” kind of threw me.

And the “recommended” brand?

Sorry for the blur – I was worried I was gonna get thrown out of Walmart for taking pictures.

Out of the thousands and thousands of different brands and types of toothpaste sold in Walmart, I found ONE that did not say “whitening” on it. It is the “recommended” brand, though. I’m too tired to take another picture, so my hygienist will have to trust me when I say that I bought two boxes. I should have bought two crates, because dollars to donuts, they won’t make it anymore when I run out…

AND I got the fluoride-full, alcohol-free mouthwash that she strongly suggested. Why does every damned cure for every damned ailment always involve me not being able to imbibe alcohol, fer God’s sake?!

During the writing of this post, I smoked seven cigarettes. I wanted to admit that to my hygienist – that was a whole ‘nother conversation and I’m not getting into the play-by-play of that one.

Also during the writing of this post, I took umpteen selfies that had me laughing my head off. I’m not posting any of them, because I look like a cross between Mr. Bean and Beaker’s Grand-Maw.

In closing, take care of your teeth, folks. Don’t get into the mess I let my mouth get into. If you’re “long of tooth”, you maybe want to forget about the whitening toothpaste.


Beyond that, find a dentist who hires people that give you spa treatments.

And the dentist should have a sense of humour.

And a boat. Ya never know…

Random Song-for-the-Day: “Turn Around” – They Might Be Giants

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