I’m not sure what this says about me but I love getting my teeth cleaned at the dentist.
The chair is so squishy and soft. I lay there with nothing to do but open my mouth when they tell me to. I stare out the window at the same palm tree I’ve stared at for the past ten years.
The dental hygienist is very gentle with fine hands and small fingers and she is meticulous as she works on my teeth. She lectures me about flossing in a careful, respectful tone. It’s a safe space and kind of intimate as she dabs away my drool and the water that sprays on my cheeks from that little machine she uses.
I love when she scrapes away the plaque with a sharp, pointy implement and then polishes with minty paste. It’s all gritty like sandpaper and I feel like I’m getting a fresh start.
Afterwards I can breathe through my teeth and freak my kids out. That is always enjoyable.
I have my little joke with the receptionist about how I look forward to going to the dentist. She laughs as she thinks I really don’t, but I actually really do when it’s just for a cleaning, which in turn makes me chuckle.
I hate when I have to get work done, but that’s a whole different thing. This is just like getting your car washed and I get a kick out of that too.
Getting my teeth cleaned means I get to be in a quiet, relaxed space where I remain still and calm. Someone is paying positive attention to me in a focused way but I don’t need to focus on anything in particular. I don’t need to be anyone or anything other than a body attached to some teeth.
Simplicity. I like it.
December 10, 2015