I’ll preface my comment with the observation that I haven’t been to the dentist in quite some time. I won’t say just how long, but suffice it to say it was prior to the first international wanderings.
What I’ve always despised about the dentist’s office are the damned hygienists, chastising and cajoling my apparent lack of proper oral hygiene techniques. “You should brush more,” they say, with an air of a disappointed mother. “You really need to floss daily,” they counsel, exhaling another disappointed breath, putting on the waning countenance of someone quite tired of delivering the same obvious advice time and time again to someone who just won’t listen. “Last time you were here, your teeth looked better,” begins the next of half dozen lamentable statements to which I am unwilling (and unable, due to the hand-in-the-mouth-factor) to respond. Over and over again I am reminded of my personal failings in oral hygiene. Again and again I am instructed to take better care of my mouth, as if it is some compatriot disassociated from my self, sullen and resigned to a lifetime of indignant disrepair and patent neglect.
Just once I want someone to clean my teeth and withhold the sage, ill-delivered advice. To note what it is I should do, not delve into and mull over what I haven’t done. Were they fore-thinking individuals, they would realize their ‘sage advice’ does more to harm my long-term dental hygiene by making me reticent to go to the damn place to begin with. Bastards.
I really do need to go to the dentist though. Damnit.