The Teeth Wore White

This week, before I went to get my dental check up, I braced myself for another lecture on more consistent flossing. I hadn't planned on needing to justify my approach to our wedding to my dentist.


Dentist, spying my ring: When's the big day?

Me: August 27th.

Dentist: That's not long!

Me: Just under 40 days, yeah. 

Dentist: Oh, hon, we're really gonna have to hustle to get your whitening scheduled.

Me: My what?

Dentist: You know, your whitening. So your teeth will be nice and white for your wedding. Most of my brides get at least a couple of treatments.

Me: I'm ok with my teeth.

Dentist: But we could make them even whiter.

Me: No, thanks, I think I'll skip that.

Dentist, frantic: But it's your wedding!



Let's examine the dentist's appeals: 

1. "But we could make them even whiter."

What kind of white? As it is, my teeth aren't coffee brown or nicotine yellow. If we were looking for hardware store paint chips to match my teeth, we might find something close in that indistinguishable family of soft off-whites that includes Eggshell, Ecru, Bone, Vanilla, Ivory, Cream. 

Those are reasonable colors for teeth to be. I'd be afraid that bleaching would put my teeth more in the family of Politician Smile white and Blank Word Document That Should Have Been A First Draft By Now white.

The underlying argument from the dentist, of course, was: "There are people out there who are prettier than you are, and their teeth are dazzlingly white. Do you have your checkbook with you?"

2. "But it's your wedding!"

From the more reasonable friends and family, this sentence means, "Your wedding is important enough to justify being a little fancier than you normally would," or, "Let us do something nice for you, since getting married is a big deal and we want to help."

However, when a peddler-of-wedding-goods says it, she is attempting to bypass all your logic with her Jedi wedding vendor mind trick nonsense.

Blade and I ran into this mind trickery at Bed Bath and Beyond, too, when we didn't register for some of the fancier stuff we'd never use, and again when a potential caterer couldn't believe we weren't planning on serving a formal, sit-down meal at our reception.

When a vendor says "But it's your wedding," she means, "Your wedding -- and, by extension, your marriage -- won't be as meaningful and impressive and real if you don't purchase these goods and services. Did you say you had your checkbook with you?"

I finally told my dentist I would think about it, because I was tired of the conversation and needed my teeth cleaned so I could move on to the rest of the afternoon. The sound of the polisher blocked out most of the rest of the free wedding advice.

Healing

An excerpt from an essay I'm working on concerning the seven sacraments.

-------

Your new dentist asked you how long your mouth had been full of ulcers.

Oh, always.

She diagnosed you with an allergy to a chemical found in most regular and whitening toothpastes. She did not need to write a prescription, but she did recommend that you switch to toothpaste for sensitive teeth.

That’s all?

That’s all.

After a few days, it no longer hurt to eat. Within a week, you were able to drink orange juice or salt your eggs without so much as a wince.

Your new dentist warned you never to use the old toothpaste again, not even a little, not even if it’s the only convenient toothpaste around. That would be like touching only a little poison ivy.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You couldn’t believe you’d never thought to ask your old dentist why your mouth hurt all the time. You assumed it was supposed to hurt. Was all healing that simple? Were you really not supposed to hurt all the time? Was asking all it took?

The Male and the Floss

Dentists don't bother me. Dental hygienists make me nervous.

My old dentist retired, so I had to go to a new dentist over Christmas. This meant a new dental hygienist. I was used to the hygienist who asked me open-ended questions, usually about Harry Potter, and then stuck her hands in my mouth before I could answer.

The new dental hygienist's tactics are rather different.

"You don't floss enough. You know, not flossing has been linked to prostate cancer."

If her hands hadn't been in my mouth, I would have explained to her that I've already taken measures to prevent getting prostate cancer. Namely, I don't have a prostate.

To be sure, I have done extensive research. My findings report that people with prostates don't cry in the candy aisle at Walgreens because they're overwhelmed by the selection and can't decide what kind of chocolate they want.* I am officially disqualified.



*Thankfully, I have a boyfriend who is tolerant of this, and who surprised me with a back-up Reeses in case I changed my mind about the M&M's.