GUIL-TEETH

A friendly alert blazed through my phone which was buried in my purse, setting off reminder tones of an upcoming appointment I scheduled three months ago. It always amazes me how fast time flies, especially when you’re having a blast eating foods and drinking beverages that have been placed on the “do not eat” list from the over compulsive hygienist. The day had crept upon me without prior warning – at least that’s the story I’m sticking with every time I recall the date in my head. I’m not sure why I’m terrified of the impending judgment that awaits me when I sit down in the controlled hydraulic seating in the dentist office. Every three months when I leave the dental office, I’m refreshed, my gums feel brand new, and I’m armed with a strategic plan to floss three times a day, including holidays.

Three months later, I receive the confirmation call the night before my upcoming appointment and I suddenly feel like the high alert status has been activated and I need to implement my emergency preparedness strategy. I find myself conducting the same ‘ol dance of shame in the bathroom? I begin destroying the medicine cabinet contents looking for the complimentary bag of dental goodies, seeking to get my hands on the wax covered floss that will help rewind and erase the last three months of fried chicken, cupcakes, and neglect.

Four times a year, I put myself through the gruesome process of overly flossing the night before, creating a façade of care and nurture in order to convince myself that my bleeding gums are a victim of nervousness and not neglect. I always walk into the office with guilt and admittance written all over my face, ready to plead the fifth and then repent. But always to my surprise, my gums are never as bad as I initially think they are. I’m not sure if it’s because of the last minute flossing, brushing and shining, or if my ‘every other night of flossing and twice a day – sometimes once a day brushing’ has really paid off.

In the end, I walked out of the dental office with my head held high, smiling bright with pristine gums and replays of the patient/dentist dialogue ringing in my ears…”Savvy, keep up the good work” – at least that’s the story I’m sticking to when curiosity resonates chatter about the piled up bags of waxed floss, mints and toothbrushes accruing in my bathroom cabinet.