Open wide

I went to the dentist today. It’s shaping up to be a pretty good week. Monday I had a “performance review” at work, and tomorrow I have to go through driver training, even though I’ve been driving every day for 28 years.

To cap off the week, I plan to be waterboarded on Thursday, and spend all day Friday watching re-runs of “The View.”

I am paying the price now of not taking care of my teeth when I was younger. I drank too many Cokes and ate too many Kit-Kats and sucked on too many lemons (who knew this was a bad thing?).

My teeth aren’t really all that bad. I mean, I don’t look like I should be sitting on a river bridge playing a banjo. But they could definitely be better.

I have spent way too much time and money in that dentist’s office the past few years. I’ve had fillings, crowns, root canals, caps, and a bridge. My teeth have had more work done than Dolly Parton.

I’m like a celebrity in my dentist’s office now, I go so much. They take me to a VIP waiting room and comp all of my floss, toothpaste and toothbrushes. The dental assistants show me pictures of their kids and call me on my birthday. The dentist’s Mercedes has a vanity tag that reads, “Thanks Mark.”

I went in this time for a cleaning, which sounded pretty innocuous, until the hygienist pulled out a torture device that looked like a grappling hook and began to scrape my teeth, going “tsk-tsk” the whole time. It made me feel bad that I disappointed her.

After that she polished my teeth, then took out a piece of floss as wide as a shoelace and forced it down to my gums, then pulled it back and forth like she was sawing down a Redwood. I’m going to ask to be put to sleep before my next cleaning.

The dentist came in, and he asked her if I’ve been flossing properly. She gave me a disapproving look, and then said to him, “well, he’s doing ok, but I told him there are a couple of areas where he needs to be more diligent.” She damns me with faint praise! I felt like a failure.

Then my dentist took a look in my mouth and I heard him say, “Oh, boy.” He always talks to himself when he’s working on me. I’ve heard him say things like “Ooops!” and “Damn, that’s not good.” This does not make for a reassuring experience.

I didn’t have any serious problems this time, though I do have to get yet another filling replaced. Basically, every filling I got when I was younger has had to be replaced. It makes me wonder if my old dentist knew what he was doing. What was he filling my teeth with, Play-Doh?

But, hey, it’s nobody’s fault but mine. Maybe someday I’ll have a radiant smile and I’ll be flashing my gleaming pearly whites all over the place. Or maybe I’ll be like my dad, and wind up keeping my teeth in a jar by the sink (a cause of many childhood horrors, by the way).

It could go either way.