ORAL EGOTISM

They took 18 x-rays. They poked, prodded a lot, checked for bleeding, and took pictures.

It could have been traumatic. And for some it is.

But I love going to the dentist.

I love it because lying in that Naugahyde recliner is a total ego trip. I leave the office feeling like a million bucks. Every single time.

And I brag about it. I make the visit a competition with The Husband. Whoever comes out with fewer oral issues wins. I'm a winner. I always win.

Today we went to the patient establishment appointments with our new dentist here in Reno. I'm horribly embarrassed that it took me this long to get it together and schedule a check-up and cleaning.

I was a bit nervous, thinking, What if it's been too long since my last appointment [it's been a year] and everything has fallen apart? What if my last dentist had no idea what he was doing or saying and I actually have a mouth full of rotten teeth? What if I have to get a shot? (I've never had one in my mouth before, and am, of course, terrified.)

After my 18 x-rays, I perched nervously waiting for my new tooth fairy to arrive and check out my chompers.

She appeared and I saw that our Dr. Mary (as she has us call her) is way too pretty to spend all her time peering into other folks' oral cavities. So it was a little strange lying in what looks like a torture chair with some hot chick directing her brown, bright eyes in to my mouth. Fabulous bedside manner you could say. (But you shouldn't.)

Poking around my gums, "Have you bleached?"

Thinking, Oh dear, she's asking because they're dingy and yellow and need a full color overhaul, "Yes."

"They're very white."

Bless you, my dentist.

Wedging the round mirror in my mouth, "Oh, your mouth is so little! So dainty. All of you is dainty."

Dainty? Moi?

Bless you, my dentist-friend.

Reviewing my digital x-rays with me, "Everything looks great. No problems here."

Bless you, my dentist-love.

Bidding me farewell, "You have no worries. You have immaculate home care."

After that, I heard nothing else. I put Immaculate Home Care on a loop and let it play in my head for the rest of the day. Periodically, I sang along out loud.

Immaculate home care. She said so.

I so won the competition with Spouse.

(Thanks, Mom and Dad.)