Solemn Vow

I tend to follow a whole "When it rains, it pours" mentality when it comes to Grae Maintenance. Since I lack insurance, it's always a challenge to do things like go to the doctor or dentist. This is mostly because I love bargain hunting but know that you get what you pay for, particularly when it involves people rooting around in your mouth or hoo-hoo.

This is why I generally avoid making scheduled trips anywhere. I let it go maybe just a little long, like a dentist visit every year and a half instead of every six months. And therein begins our tale.

I have always loved the dentist, beginning as a wee tot in Dr. O's office. He was a gentle, caring Asian man no less than seven hundred years old, and he always gave me ceramic figures of clowns to paint when the checkup was over. I liked the cut of his jib, and therefore loved going to the dentist. Until today.

Any fondness I had for dental offices was shattered when I went to my appointment today. In the waiting room, angry grandmothers and the disenchanted almost-homeless created a palpable air of Periodontitis Blues that threatned to suck me in. My name was called and I escaped to a large, dismal waiting room. I sat among the indifferent dental staff, and noticed that the fluoresent lighting was buzzing really loudly. It took me three minutes to figure out that it was actually a child screaming behind a closed door at a constant rate.

It was the first time in my life I felt a sickening sense of dread creep into my tummy while waiting for the Mouth People to do their Mouth Magic.

When the Russian doctor strolled over to me, she called me Grace and ignored my polite attempt to correct her. She told me that I need a good cleaning and that if I don't do it soon my face will implode. Or something. And to continue the afternoon of firsts, it was at that moment that I felt dentally lackadaisical and ashamed. They used to call me Goldenmouth back home. Back then, I walked with a quiet confidence--even if I only got a 1200 on the SAT, I still had excellent dental hygiene. And now, in this city of sin, I have disgraced myself and no longer have pearly whites to be proud of. I have let myself and my tooths down.

You are present to witness my vow to change my teeth care regimen. I will fight gingivitis, get my teeth straightened, fix my cracked veneer, and reclaim my throne as Teeth Queen. My bathroom will soon be reminiscent of a dentist's office, with an electric toothbrush and oral irrigator. I will rinse bacteria from my mouth with pride, my darlings, and will never lose my teeth or need a root canal.

Do you think that this could be caused by too much oral? Hmm. Like maybe I shouldn't feel so bad; hookers have it worse than me. I shouldn't be so hard on myself, because at least I have the teeth of a girl who doesn't get paid to do it.

chomp. g