Wednesday, April 28, 2010

hygiene?

On Friday I will be going to see the hygienist.


I have done so only once before. That was after 10 years of not visiting the dentist at all, in any capacity. I wasn't even sure what a hygienist did at that stage (I just wanted my teeth cleaned and the NHS don't do that any more.) They were a little bemused by my lackadaisical approach to my mouth, I think, and passed judgement on me too.

Anyway, I endeavour to go through this again because my teeth did feel squeaky clean afterwards. And those little stains between them were disparu sufficient to please the most vain among us (me?) And I have a big event in a week or so, at which sparkly teeth will give me more shaky ground on which to base a little self-confidence.


But I quiver with fear in advance of my trip because I know the petite, well-groomed lady she is bound to be will attack my mouth with one of these. And I still taste the trauma of the last visit, as I sat there innocently awaiting a toothbrush and instead had a chisel rammed viciously, vigourously and at length between all my teeth. It left me a bit shaky for hours. There was a fair amount of blood too.

The price I pay for beauty..... ah me! Better go chew some chocolate.

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