Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Mental dental torture

Today I went to the dentist for my bi-annual cleaning and I felt like a spy being tortured. They sat me in that chair and put that light in my face and started asking me all those questions, such as, "How often do you floss? What kind of toothbrush do you use? What is the secret formula? What are the access codes? Talk! Talk!"

Unlike the stolid spies in the movies I crack immediately and blubber, "I skip flossing occasionally! I have a huge bag of *Halloween candy sitting on my passenger seat right now! One time I fell asleep without brushing! Now leave me alone, I've told you all I know!"

In my defense, dentists break you down psychologically. Guantánamo Bay has got nothing on my dentist. Each dentist's office is kept at a mean temperature of 33 degrees faranheit, just warm enough to keep the Novacaine from freezing. The first thing they do is put a bib on you, a grown person, and you sit there feeling like at any moment someone is going to start spooning strained peas into your mouth while making airplane sounds. Then they ask you questions while they have both hands in your mouth and you are powerless to anything but mumble or gurgle incoherently in response. Then they put you in a heavy lead vest and make you bite down on painful plastic things that cut into your mouth and take 5,000 x-rays, agonizingly changing the position of the plastic things for each x-ray.

And all the while the interrogator aka "hygienist" is sitting there with her tray of torture implements.

"If you don't tell me what I want to know you're going to meet my little friend The Iron Hook."

And of course my gums immediately retract in fear and I tell them what they want to know.

* Yes, it's true. I've already bought Halloween candy.

And I noticed that I've written a ton of blogs about dentists. Creepy.