cavity search

I used to call it the banana seat. yellow and worn leather. indented from all the other previous asses. some called it the dentist chair but I much preferred the banana seat.

I was never a fan of the dentist. I was hostile. I was violent. I did not want to be there. at the age of five, I sat down and then immediately realized, this is not a great place to be, struggled out of the hands of the nurse and ran out of the office. I had to switch doctors.

but despite hating the dentist, I still had terrible teeth. cavities and root canals. I blame it on bad genes. not on lack of brushing which I did frequently. obsessively.

in fact, I believed whenever I was in that chair it was my privilege to moan outloud at any time I felt was suitable. most of the time I wasn't even in pain. I just hated being there listening to my dentist hum the theme to the Brady Bunch.

now here I am owner of two crowns. nothing very Queen-y about it. feels more like two porcelain toilets for molars, but I like them. they haven't tried to escape a single time. I keep trying to floss finding myself unable to keep that resolution. I gave up hating the dentist, too. or maybe the dentist gave up on hating me, but either way, I find him more friend than foe. call me sick, but I actually look forward to the dentist.

but this is the problem. when I smile and the boston chill hits the right top row of teeth. I feel this unnatural tingle. this sensativity that previously did not exist, at least in that location. now i'm craving dental hygiene and Crest has become my best friend.

it's going to be a long winter. 
¶ 9:05 PM |