Smile Like You Mean It

I despise the idea of anything nonfat. I buy cheap shampoo. More often than not, I forget to apply lotion.

And while we’re on the subject of legs, bear in mind I did attend an all-girls high school, and anything you’ve heard about those shaving habits is probably true.

Long story short, when it comes to beautifying, I cut pretty much every corner – except for one.

My teeth.

I brush these bad boys at least twice a day, if not more. Once when I wake up, again before bed, and if there’s a social engagement somewhere in between, best believe they’ll get a fresh coat of paste before we head out.

Even if I come home three sheets to the wind, I refuse to pass out with gritty pearly whites.

I don’t know when the obsession took hold. I vividly remember lying to my parents as they tucked me in, swearing I totally brushed my teeth before hitting the hay.

A lot has changed in the last five years.

Honestly, it probably dates back to the pain of braces. Those were the work of the devil.

Just when you thought you’d reached the pinnacle of soreness, a new check-up would roll around, new bands would be applied, and you’d go back to sipping soup for the 3-4 days it took your jaw to recover.

I had those suckers for 27 months and five days – not that I was counting. But the second they came off, I knew I never wanted ’em again.

So I wore my retainer as instructed (for much longer than instructed), brushed religiously and never missed an appointment.

That is, until I went to college. I kept up with the retainer and brushing, but the semi-annual check-ups were a lot harder to come by.

I ended up going six years without ever seeing a dental professional.

I AM SO ASHAMED. NEVER BE LIKE ME.

But that makes my newfound devotion to the dentist that much sweeter (pun intended).

Honestly, the back half of that six-year hiatus was a conscious avoidance. I was embarrassed I’d already gone so long without a good cleaning, convinced my cavities would have cavities! There was no way I could face my childhood dentist in such a state.

So I found someone new. And it’s not like I was being unfaithful to Dr. Carson – I was in a totally new city! It only made sense to find a different provider.

One who couldn’t see how disgusting I had been just by flipping open a file.

Dr. Burgher was just the man for the job.

I went in for a quick polish and came out a totally new woman.

Not one cavity to report. This was my clean slate – my next appointment was in the books before I even left the office.

Never again would I risk the well-being of my ivories simply because I couldn’t swallow my pride.

Well, that last part isn’t totally true. But I’ll be sure to cover that in a future post.

What I’m saying is, I love the dentist. I love taking care of my teeth. I love the way they feel after they’re scraped and scrubbed and *flossed by a professional.

And I’m still riding the high of this morning’s appointment, in case you couldn’t tell.

Does that make me a weirdo? Maybe.

BUT I’M A WEIRDO WITH A SHINY SMILE.

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This is Lucy. You’ll hear all about our adventures soon enough.

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Title Credit: The Killers

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*Notice I never claim to floss as religiously as I brush. Because it’s gross and annoying and all but impossible when you have a permanent retainer. Sue me.

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