Teeth cleaning day here in Northern Michigan.
I detest having my teeth cleaned. Not for the reasons that
you might think.
Not because it is unnatural to have someone cramming their
hands in your mouth for a half an hour. (If you cannot relate to this, get help
weirdo)
Not because there is no gritty toothpaste in preferred
flavors like Mint Mojito or Tequila Shooter.
Not because of the inevitable spit in your eye from the
water squirter deflecting off of your front teeth.
No, I hate having my teeth cleaned because my dental
hygienist looks like a supermodel and makes me feel badly about myself. I mean this woman is unnaturally gorgeous.
Perfect skin, perfect figure, perfect hair, perfect teeth (well, everyone who
works there has great teeth) but still, disgusting. And her name, well of course, it is ‘Misty’
and on top of it all she is always happy. (For sure, if I looked like a
supermodel you would not be able to wipe the ever-loving grin off of my face
either.)
Misty has a picture of her two, equally photogenic, grown
children off to college displayed next to the spit sink. Thinking she must be much younger than I, I asked,
“So having kids at 14 must have been tough going for you?”
“Oh no”, she replied, with a knowing smile, “I am in my late
forties, I am sooooo old!”
Now with the knowledge that Misty is even older than me and
looks that fabulous brings out the passive aggressor in me. I must bring this
woman down. Game on. I fire the questions relentlessly to wipe that smile off
of her attractive mug.
“Wow, humid out today, I bet your hair fuzzes up real bad
like mine, eh?” She launches back at me,
“Oh yes, curls it right up. I simply love it like that!” She was going to be
tough. Water spits into my left eye.
“How about that stock market, say goodbye to retirement
until your ninety right? That’s a whole lot of chompers and gums…” Her smile
rock solid, she shoves her fingers into my mouth with something especially
sharp and says, “Oh I am so lucky, my husband’s companies are really doing
well, I just work to meet nice people.”
Now she has gone too far. I did not want to take it to this
low level, but she left me no choice, no other options.
“I saw your next patient there in the lobby; pretty sure he
had a wad of chewing tobacco going on…I bet that
guy has some bleeders.” Victory! Her
smile into a frown, she knew I had her. Suddenly, the entire office went black.
Power outage. The entire south side of town in the dark.
She turned on the flashlight app on her cell phone so that I
could just make out her perfect Cheshire Cat grin.
“Well, what a bummer. I guess I will have to reschedule Mr.
Shloter and give him to Alison for tomorrow. So that is a day off for me! I think I will go try on bathing
suits for the fourth of July.” She escorted me to the door and slapped me again
to let me know who had won this epic battle.
“Mrs. Sarchet, you have a good day at work now….see you in six months.”
Oh yes, worthy adversary, we shall battle again, and I am
taking this free brush, floss, and toothpaste with me.
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