I just returned from my semiannual teeth cleaning at my dentist’s office. After 20 minutes of me suppressing my gag reflex while my hygienist rooted around in my mouth with a sandblaster, an industrial strength shop-vac, tiny pickaxe and enough gauze to wrap King Tut five times over, she declared:
“Either you’re completely fooling me or you’ve been doing much better with your flossing.”
What, me floss? Wow, a Pollyanna dental hygienist–I didn’t know they existed.
All I can say is: Ha! Gotcha!
I floss the same way that many of my patients use their glaucoma drops: that is, only during the week leading up to my next appointment.
But I’m betting I’m not the only one with pieces of last night’s dinner stuck in the sagging pockets formed by my rapidly receding gums. Come on, ‘fess up. You’re among friends here.