Gums of Steel

I got my teeth cleaned today (they're lookin' good, by the way -- I get to be part of the "No Cavity Club" this week!). The hygienist was a little rough with me, and I winced more than once when her little instrument of torture slipped off of my teeth and onto my gums. I bet she makes lots of people bleed. She told me that my teeth were bleeding because I don't floss enough. Okay, so I don't floss every night, but I probably manage it at least three times a week, which I think is infinitely better than NO times a week. I can think of other reasons that my teeth were bleeding, but I held my tongue and smiled as politely as one can when someone's hands are in your mouth.

As I was sitting there waiting for the dentist to scrape around for a few minutes, I started pondering, "Do people actually like staring into my mouth?" (aside: Does anybody else suddenly become conscious of a funny way that they've been holding their tongue for the last few minutes while the hygienist worked?) "Do little boys and girls dream of growing up to become dental hygienists and dentists? Don't get me wrong -- it's a great career, both for the givers and the takers. My cousin is a dental hygienist, and she calls her own hours, gets job offers on a regular basis, and makes good money. I just don't remember "I want to be a dentist" being in the mix with "I want to be a fireman," "I want to be a doctor" and "I want to be an astronaut." Mine was, "I want to be a vet." Until I realized that a) vets have to put animals to sleep and b) all that gore made me queasy (I fainted once watching a dog get spayed; I was in 6th grade).

Anyway, to celebrate my clean and healthy teeth, I just partook of one of the greatest combinations ever to be invented: chocolate and caramel. And, since they don't stick in between my teeth, I don't even feel compelled to go home and floss.