This picture depicts the guilty pleasure I felt when I stole a gift in the Christmas game we play each year.
It depicts the natural color of teeth photo-magically whitened (doctored) by the photographer for my mug head shot.*
[*For the record, it was the only fix I gave her permission to make. In retrospect, I should have given her permission to dewonkify my hair.]
The Christmas picture depicts glee identical to what I felt after I sneakily inadvertently called on a day my local dentist’s office was closed to schedule my teeth cleaning and whitening.
Oh, yippee no!
I got to had to schedule my appointment through a receptionist who agreed to a regular cleaning this one time if I promised to schedule the recommended deep cleaning next time.
I was sincere about the next time promise.
It was the two previous next times about which I’d been iffy.
If I brushed seventeen times per day and if I flossed four to six times per day and if I purchased a pricey water-pic, I might cure those pesky gums myself.
Clearly, I was either (1) lying through my periodunkulous teeth, or (2) delusional.
Let’s go with delusional.
Why?
Chats with dental hygienists typically mirror one I had with a doctor years ago during an annual wellness exam.
- Doctor Q: “Have you performed routine breast exams?”
- Gloria A: “At a red light on my way over here. That’s my regular routine.”
[Public Service announcement for female readers: Do not make your doctor laugh when he wields a cold, metallic device near your personal parts.]
- Hygienist Q: “Have you flossed regularly?”
- Gloria A: “Yes [long pause] for a week after you last saw me and in your restroom a few minutes ago.”
Monday, the week of The Big Tooth Caper, I got a call from my regular hygienist.
Seems they keep pesky computer records of prior conversations. Who knew? Alert the ACLU!
Deep clean or no cleaning. My choice. No she would not/could not deep clean and whiten on the same day.
No. She would not/could not give me a regular cleaning one more time.
Yes. Her two lovely children were doing fine, thank you for asking.
But, no she would not do a regular cleaning one more time even though I was scheduled to leave on my sabbatical in ten days and wanted to have my teeth whitened while the $200 discount was still valid, pretty please and…
DRAT! Two appointments in one week.
APPOINTMENT ONE — THE DEEP CLEANING
My dentist will not give me happy gas.
He will sell me happy gas, but White House|Black Market will also sell me a rocking hot bustier [on sale!] for the same amount of money.
I did the math on minutes of pain versus minutes of happy. Game on for bustier.
Besides, I do not mind shots. I lie back, relax, and take my imagination to my happy place.
The dentist jiggles my cheeks and lips when he delivers shots.
I suppose it’s to keep me from getting tense.
He need not have worried. I had my hands crossed on my belly and was quietly deciding what colors would go best in my Imaginary Deluxe Tree House (Sage? Gem Tones? Red and yellow?).
To be honest, I was close to dipping into a nap zone when the dentist jerked me back to reality.
To avoid dialog tags, I choose to tell you about my conversion with the dentist’s dialog in BLACK, my brain’s thoughts and intended dialog in RED, and the words that spewed from my mouth in PURPLE.
“You doing okay?”
“Uh-huh. I’m in my happy place.”
“Unh-huh. I i-i-n I haaaady lace.”
“You’re in your happy place?”
“Unh-huh.”
Dang! Talking without lips is hard. No matter. I think sage, but what color coordinates…
ERK! What if he thinks my “happy place” is something kinky? What if his brain is weird wired like mine? I’d better clarify.
“It’s a tree house in the Rockies.”
“Id uh d-e-e-e oud in the Ahkeeeed”
“A tree house in the Rockies? That’s nice. Move your head a little to the left. Good. Hold it right there.”
Man, he’s good. Now, sage and fall colors? That would look…
ACK! What if he thinks I’m nuts? A real tree house in the Rockies? Better clarify while he’s refilling his gun needle.
“It’s an imaginary tree house.”
“Iguh a-a-ra-guh-rary guh-ree ough.”
I can not control my tongue. It’s too big for my mouth. I think I’ll shut up now.
“Ah. An imaginary tree house. I thought that’s what you meant. Open wide. This next one’s going to pinch.”
No it’s not.
I’m in my happy place.
I think I’ll have a loft that’s nothing but a comfy mattress, lots of pillows, and bookshelves. O-o-o-o-h! And, a balcony…
But, he doesn’t need to know that. Thanks for the pat on the shoulder, doc. I know the drill. You’ll be back to make sure I’m numb in a few minutes. And, that one shot? The one at the back that angled up toward my eyeball? I think it numbed my brain.
“ang uuuuu”
BRIEF PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
Feed yourself before you go for a dentist’s appointment that will involve numbing your entire mouth — lips and tongue included.
If you choose not to follow that advice, it’s best to write a note with your desired order on said note before entering Starbucks.
If you write that note, it should not contain the word “smoothie.”
Why? [Aside from the obvious you-can’t-say-the-word reason.]
Because drinking a smoothie requires the ability to suck on a straw, which involves the use of both working lips and tongue.
Trust me. This is not easy.
Trust me. Taking the lid off to sip yields a smoothie-waterfall into and onto everything but your lips and tongue.
What to do?
Drive to a remote place, prop your drink on your steering wheel, and use the visor mirror to pinch your robotic lips around the end of the straw.
You will then be able to nourish your body with the limited about of smoothie not already decorating your blouse, steering wheel, and jeans.
APPOINTMENT NUMBER TWO – THE WHITENING
This bit is short. Because one is unable to speak once the hygienist inserts what feels like an inverted eighteen-wheeler inner-tube over your teeth.
So. Back to the happy place.
The only problem this time is that I don’t have activity in the alcove that opens to EVERY OTHER ALCOVE IN THE LARGE OFFICE, INCLUDING THE LOBBY.
How will I pass the time?
Why, I’ll fall into a peaceful nap in my happy place.
And, I will snore.
I will snore with such enthusiasm, I jerk myself awake three four so many times I stopped counting.
And, then I will slink from the office, hoping different people are on duty when I pick up my dental trays for future whitening at home.
And, I will floss twice a day for the rest of my life. And, this time I mean it. This time I’m doing it.
No joke. No lie. No imaginary flossing.
COME ON! Leave a comment and tell me you’ve done something totally perio-or-otherwise-dunkulous. Do you follow the doctor and dentist’s orders? If yes, goody-two-shoes for you you are to be commended. Tell us about it.
If you don’t. Tell us about it. I need company in my wonky world.
Whatever you do, smile and do something today “just because…”
Gloria Richard 
I laughed out loud at “Because drinking a smoothie requires the ability to suck on a straw, which involves the use of both working lips and tongue.” You are the queen of funny, Gloria! Sorry to tell you I am a bit of a goody two shoes as I do what they tell me. Except for regular flossing. There I use your words and pray for the inquisition to be over.
Oh, gaaaah, Elaine! To heck with pride. The comedic value of swollen, non-responsive lips clamped by my fingers on a Starbucks straw might have made the pic worth the after-laugh.
The shape of them closely resembled Daffy Duck.
No. You need not play off of other parts that might lend themselves to Daffy Duck comparison. Thank you.
How funny we are the same. I’ve had so much work done this year. Goes to write floss on to do list 🙂
Pay for the Happy Gas, Catherine!
I would if it weren’t for my White House|Black Market purchase mania.
Okay, truthfully? I also worry about what I’ll say when under the influence of Happy Gas. I have far too many
skeletons in my closetbatty thoughts while I’m fully conscious.Oh, I have my semi-annual cleaning next month. I use it as a good time marker. Me: “Last time I was here I was writing ….. WIP. Now I’m working on ….. WIP. Bl**p, that’s the same one! Get a move on sister!”
Happy whitening, Gloria!
There’s nothing like a deep cleaning to knock the sass out of my don’t-tell-me-what-to-do bad behavior, Megan.
And, these dental trays? They rock! No more crawling on the floor searching for dropped Crest White Strips.
I don’t want to count the number of cleanings I’ve had while working on this WIP. Therefore, I choose to zip my lip on that topic.
You had me laughing out loud again. And I can testify: you do floss twice if not more a day. Unless your habits have changed since going back to the big state.
The last time we met was post dental procedure and whitening, Carole. I truly did embrace good dental hygiene after the great KA-SHNORT! snooze in the dentist’s chair.
But — in case I fall back into bad habits — can I pretty please get a note from you before my next dental appointment? Better yet, will you come with me and pinch me awake before I have to KA-SHNORT myself awake?
Gloria … does the expression … “you’re crazier than a rooster in a duplex hen-house” mena anything to you. What to do, who to do?
Okay, I needed the rooster and the hen because I am more like “chicken little” and worry the sky will fall if I show up at the dentists. Yuck );
As always, you are hilarious !!
Hey, Florence. You are more like my husband than I am when it comes to the dentist.
The dude could face sawed-off shotguns, but whines for
daysweeks about having to go through a *gasp* dental procedure. “But the needle is going to hu-u-u-r-t!”Yes, and it will hurt less if you whine about it for weeks in advance because…?
Go figure! The Brooklyn Babe has a chicken coop saying this country girl had not yet heard. What to do? Who to do, indeed. SNORT!
Funny stuff Gloria! I have a passport for Wonky World. My previous doctor requested – Zack ignored – naughtiness is pretty standard. It involves going in for what should be a yearly EGD (hold on to your britches here) Esophagogastroduodenoscopy, during which they perform an esophageal dilation………
I know, boring as hell, and who wants to get something that sounds like that done to their throat? Well, I held off for 8 years. 😉
(not a good idea, by-the-way)
YIKES, Zack!
The only thing about the Esopha-Gas-End-Oscopy-Thingie procedure that sounds remotely Happy Place friendly is my assumption it likely involves intravenous Happy Gas.
And, yes.
YOU SHOULD NOT IGNORE THOSE DOCTOR INSTRUCTIONS. [Shouty Capitals are intentional, btw.]
The conversations in Wonky World comments would be far less entertaining without you.
Thanks!
Your assumption is correct. I was joking with the nurses and doctor before the first injection, continued with another joke until the Dr put the plastic mouth-piece in and gave me a second injection, at which time I pulled the plastic piece out of my mouth and said “Nom nom nom.” Needless to say, the Dr hit me again with a third injection and I was OUT.
You’re right. (thanks for the well-placed and thoughtful shouty caps) I won’t ignore that Dr again.
😀
“Nom, nom, nom” says it all when they inject the happy meds, Zack.
I don’t even mind the oscopy of the opposite (if you get my drift) variety (other than he prep). I lay on the bed, and when each nurse or nurse’s aid visits, I ask, “SO! When is the anesthetic pro going to give me my shot of happy juice?”
Even though I don’t remember anything about the procedure, I understand patients do chat while out for that type of procedure. ACK!
LMAO Gloria!
I SO get your drift, and even commented about this ASSpect of his work. It went something like, “Was your last patient getting their south worked on, and if so, please tell me you cleaned the equipment.”
Do you think they ever seen “Moon River”?
*sing*
not seen…… I need happy juice
I am due for a dental visit and am avoiding it because I have to go to new guy. My dentist of an undetermined number of years who pats my shoulder and treats me like a daughter had the gall to retire. The nerve.
There is something very personal about having a person mill around in your mouth.
You are a riot.
I feel your separation anxiety pain, Brinda.
Over the years I had both a trusted doctor (the one who I knew well enough to deliver the stop-light-break-comment to), and a pat-on-the-head dentist retire.
It felt as if they abandoned me. I wanted to beg them to rent-a-room for a week to take care of people like me.
Good luck with the search, amiga mia!
You are still dreaming about that tree house! I love it! I had a sadistic dental hygienist work on my mouth. She stabbed me twice! I think she did it on purpose since she had told me I should be flossing twice a day and I retorted that the dentist said once a day or every other day was fine. STAB! Like in Psycho! In my GUMS! I haven’t been back.
Lovin those pearly whites!
Of course I’m still dreaming about that tree house, Susie.
OUCH! on the sadistic dental hygienist.
[Note to self: Never argue with a dental hygienist. They may be as gotcha’ driven as a cop faced with a smart-mouthed traffic violator.]
😀
I’ll remember that….. 🙂
Imagining you trying to order and drink a smoothie with numb lips is an image that will be burned in my brain from now on whenever I hear the word “smoothie”.
I have had a TON of dental work done in the past decade and while I’ve followed all doctorly advice, that doesn’t mean it’s been all sunshine and rainbows at the dental offices. I shall now regale you with a fun story I call Tami’s Dental Work Tales. You don’t mind, right?
From the ages of 27-29, I was subjected to the time-honored tradition that most people endure during their awkward teen years: braces. And like most teens, this was a time during which I perfected the art of whining and self-pity, generally reserved in heaping doses for the orthodontist, whom I dubbed Dr. J. This was all in preparation for jaw surgery. (Skipping over gorey details….) Following the surgery, I was rubber banded shut for 6 weeks and given a potent mix of drugs called “Potter’s Cocktail”- a prescription from the surgeon that required a visit to an apothecary to get because the standard pharmacies wouldn’t fill it.
After a few days hopped up on that stuff, I went back for a check up and had a panic attack (which I’d never had before) and hid in the bathroom at the doctor’s office. The surgeon had to figure out how to unlock the ladies’ room door (because I refused to come out), then scooped me up from the floor and carried me to a room to hook me up to an IV of “fluids”. His theory on why I was behaving so wacky? Dehydration. Or maybe, Dr. Drug Dealer, it was the cocktail of crack meds you gave me for the pain. It’s a toss up.
After I had my braces removed, I had to go see my dentist (who is a dead ringer for Ned Flanders from the Simpsons) for a procedure that required some numbing of the gums. Once again, another panic attack. Ned Flanders was slick, though – not only did he quickly get the procedure done, but he also was the one to figure out I’m allergic to epinephrine, a common indgredient in numbing shots.
Yeah, I’ve a got rep among dental offices in this town. It’s too bad Ned Flanders retired this year. I’m sure it had nothing to do with me…
OMGosh, Tami! That sounds like a horrid experience. I truly shuddered as you told it. Yes. It’s funny from outside the locked door, thinking about a dentist trying to break into his own bathroom door.
But, there was a huddled mass of panic-attack-teenager on the floor inside.
You have earned your right to stand in the “But it will h-u-u-u-r-t” line before dental appointments. My husband? Not so much. He’s just a baby about them.
And, you are welcome to tell your tales in comments — or, even on a guest blog. Just sayin’…
I choose not to implicate you in the Ned Flanders retirement decision. No wonder those poor guys have one of the highest suicide rates.
Let me know the date for your guest blog, Tami.
Yes. I believe in the Power of Expectation!
Gee, G. In the original telling, your happy place included moi. Well.
Even funnier now that the story has had time to ferment. Burp.
Getting upper wisdom teeth out. There will be gas. And then I’ll be a gas. Might phone you while my mouth and brain are still numb. Have a pen ready, you can take notes and craft a new post.
Had the procedure gone longer than it did, I would have had time to design the bridge linking my tree house with yours in a neighboring tree. Since you haven’t yet offered me a tree in your very own forest paradise…
Pausing to give you time to guilt trip.
We can also ask to be cell mates when we get caught pulling water from a local stream for our indoor plumbing.
ACK! When are you getting your wisdom teeth
yankedgently withdrawn? I may need to be there in person to take notes and to nurse you back to health.[Note to self: Pack gas mask.]
I was born without wisdom teeth. Some
dipwadspeople make rude comments about that factoid. I prefer toembrace the delusionthink I’m centuries advanced on the evolutionary scale.You are hilarious. I brush and floss with gusto my teeth for a couple days before a dentist appt in hopes of fooling them into thinking I do it regularly. Yeah, that doesn’t quite work. But hey at least we do try.
Hildie, you are far too like me in that arena. One look at my gums and they know. They always know.
Annoying, isn’t it.
Great news, though! After the Deep Clean Caper, dental floss became an essential in my daily routine. I do not ever want to have to order (or suck) a smoothie with inoperative lips and tongue. Again. Ever.
I hate when my brain goes numb! It is so hard to do anything without a working cerebral cortex. And the numb lips really don’t help. It mush ‘av been the numb brain that caused the smoothie order. It couldn’t have been that your brain was working normally? Could it???
Jessica! You are a doll.
Here I was, trying to invent a fresh
lieline about why I made the decision to order a smoothie, and it was there all along.There’s a reason you earn money for you fiction. Now, if I could just string all my over-the-years-whoppers into a plot…
Nah. I’ll have to invent things I haven’t yet done to get to “the end.”
I’m a fail at flossing, but I’m trying to remember. I tend to start a week before my appointment. That was hysterical. Thanks for sharing your story. Something I can relate to.
YAY! When I posted I feared everyone reading this would think, Ewwww. She doesn’t floss every day?
Seems I’m in good company.
Is there a dentist in the house? We obviously need group counseling.
Thanks for the visit and comment.
You are so funny, Gloria! I’ve had 3 babies delivered au naturel and I still get myself in a tizzy over the dentist.
My cleaning is in a couple weeks and no I haven’t flossed twice a day. Like you, I will now floss every day, so my gums don’t bleed (too much) while my teeth are being cleaned.
The best part of going to this appointment, is every single time, they ask did you sell your book???? And for years, (I’d never have said I wrote a book, if I’d known how long it would take to sell) I’ve had to say, nope, not yet. This time I’m bringing postcards. Yay!
I noticed your teeth btw. They looked very white to me!
SKA-WEEEEEE! You’ll be the star of the office for the day.
Imagine! Everyone will want to get a peek at the published author. Practice saying “gang uuuuu” now — because it’s tough to get the “th” sound out with a dental instrument crammed in your mouth.
Plus! You gave me a wonderful
excusereason to delay my next appointment.I will not have my teeth cleaned, or shave my legs, or wax my eyebrows until I reach “the end.”
[Pauses. Pictures. Pukes.]
Never mind…
All I can say is that everyone has a dentist story. Yours is was more interesting than mine.
Cheers!
Nigel! I’m honoUred! You surfaced from Fast Draft mode long enough to read my Glob.
I suspect your not-as-interesting dentist story is a result of regular flossing. You’re that kind of guy.
Thanks for the visit. I keep looking for a post from you saying, “It’s done, it’s done, it’s finally done.”
Cheer(io)s!
LOL. It will be done, or I’m going to be done for.
Loved this post you had me laughing so hard the tears are rolling down my cheeks!
Welcome to comments, Karen! I bopped over to your site (karensdifferentcorners.wordpress.com) to peek at your blog and discovered you’re in the process of deciding on a cover for your book! Woot!
Thank you for the LOL comment and for taking time to visit and comment during this oh-so-exciting time in your writing life. I’ll bop over later to check things out.
Make sure you floss. Book signings and launches and being photographed my strangers on the street and all…
Hilarious, Gloria! I lie to my dentist, too – and myself. I have the good intention to floss daily, sadly it doesn’t happen enough to keep the dentist happy. I don’t mind having my entire mouth numbed – the trick is ‘confidence’. If you ACT like you’re speaking normally, others will treat you like you’re speaking coherently. As for the dribbling that occurs because your lips are in la-la land, well that’s a diet trick. See, you THINK you’re drinking that high calorie coffee drink, so your brain is satisfied. If you save what dribbles out of your mouth for later, then you get to enjoy the deliciousness twice!
Have a great weekend, Gloria!
OMGosh, Marcia!
I forgot about the infamous blue paper bib, sitting there watching as blobs of wet spots appeared. I honestly looked around to see if a dental machine had been left on to spew water. No joke.
Then, I realized those spots came from slobber dripping from the side of my can’t-feel-it-so-it-can’t-be-happening mouth.
Case closed.
The dentist dude did hit my brain with that shot angled upward toward my right eyeball.
Um. On the “others will think you’re speaking normally” front? There may be truth in that while in the dentist’s office. I swear those guys could rent themselves out to translate toddler-speak.
At the counter at Starbucks, trying to order a banana strawberry smoothie? Not so much.
Hmmm… my answer to the flossing question is identical to yours… and yes, I have made the same promise.
Ah, Yes! Yet another floss-challenged person joins me on my side. WOOT!
I have been so busy lately, I haven’t been able to comment much anywhere, but I had to tell you that this post made me laugh. You would get along great with my sister (and me, obviously 😉 ). We’ve been known to make our doctors laugh with inappropriate banter during exams. 🙂
No worries, Amber, on not having time to comment. I should follow your example. Write first. Comment when you can.
I love to hear from you. and would so welcome additional fodder for inappropriate banter during exams. I’m running out of material!
My sister and I have been throwing around the idea of doing a podcast – on the list of topics? Conversations with your gyno. 🙂
What a wonderfully snarky idea, Amber! Love it. Why didn’t I think of it first?
Insert emoticon guy tearing his hair out.