11 July 2006


I went to the dentist again today. This time was just a check-up and cleaning. I liked it. I actually enjoyed going, sitting in the chair, and having them inspect my teeth. I loved when they scraped at my teeth and carefully poked, prodded, and flossed. I don’t know why.
I even liked taking x-rays and looking at how my teeth fit together. We even took one of the full-sized x-rays that show all of the teeth together, instead of just the little localized ones. They were all beautiful. It was like a little life history of my teeth. It showed the steps of growth, decay, and correction. I started thinking back to my dental childhood and the experiences with different dentists, remembering that I didn’t always dread it. In reality, I usually enjoyed it, and was fine the procedures.
The dentist asked me all sorts of interrogative questions and was really surprised that I never had braces. He told me I had beautiful teeth about a dozen times.
The only part that got to me this time was the sandy, mystery-flavored substance that they polished my teeth with, but only because it tickled. Yes, my gums are ticklish.
I was even content when we were talking about my wisdom teeth and how we should probably take them out just to be safe, even though we didn’t need to right away. He told me I was lucky not to have one on the bottom left. In actuality, I felt lucky to have the other three.

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