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Bring on the floss

September 20, 2010

Ignore your teeth for a year. They don’t run away per se. They rot.

Plaques require dentists. No, I won’t fear the drilling sounds. They aren’t for me. They are for those morons who completely abandoned their molars. I just neglected them. Nevertheless, I plug in Etta James. Wrong playlist choice. Now, my heart aches.

Dentist’s coat is dirty yellow. A yellow that happens when your wife accidentally washes it with her canary colored cotton dupatta. A yellow which is my denture.

Mouth wide open. Eyes tight shut. Done within an hour with a little fortune spent.

Usual advice doled out – Floss. Floss. Floss. Brush twice. Come after one year. Bye for now you-overeducated-oral-hygiene-fail.

I slyly observe everyone’s teeth that day. Mother’s- pearly white. Sister’s- crooked to the core (I feel good now). Father rarely smiles. Maid has a front tooth missing like some poor gangster.

Maid’s grand mom is the star of this story. She peels potatoes in a blink. Drinks her tea as soon as it’s poured. Chews the stale leftover chapattis with gusto. And as if all this isn’t stellar enough, she pulls out a loose long strand of white hair from her head and runs it between her teeth.

I am too dumbfounded to gross out.

So I stare and she returns my stare with a smile an orthodontist would be proud of.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. January 2, 2011 6:35 am


    One thing I like less than most things is sitting in a dentist chair with my mouth wide open.

    And that I will never have to do it again is a hope that I am against hope hopan.

    Because some tortures are physical and some are mental,

    But the one that is both is dental.

    It is hard to be self possessed

    With your jaw digging into your chest,

    so hard to retain calm

    When your fingernails are making serious alterations in your life line or love line or some other important line in your palm,

    So hard to give your ususal cheerful effect of benignity

    When you know your position is one of the two or three in life most lacking in dignity

    And your mouth is like a section of road that is being worked on

    And it is cluttered up with stone crushers and concrete mixers and drills and steam rollers and there isn’t a nerve on your head that aren’t being irked on.

    Oh some people are unfortunate to be worked on by thumbs,

    And others have things done to their gums,

    And your teeth are supposed to being polished

    But you have reason to believe they are being demolished.

    And the circumstances that adds to your terror

    Is that it’s all done with a mirror,

    Because the dentist may be a bear, or as the Romans used to say, only they were referring to a feminine bear when they said it, an ursa,

    But all the same how can you be sure when he takes his crowbar in one hand and mirror in the other he won’t get mixed up, the way you do when try to tie a bow tie with the aid of a mirror, and forget that left is right and vice versa

    And then at last he says, That will be all, but it isn’t because he then coats your mouth from cellar to roof

    With something I suspect is generally used to put shine a horse’s hoof,

    And you totter to your feet and think, Well it’s over now and after all it was only this once,

    And he says come back in three monce.

    And this O Fate, is I think the most vicious that thou ever sentest,

    That Man has to go continually to the dentist to keep his teeth in good condition

    When the chief reason he wants his teeth to be in good condition is so that he won’t have to go the dentist.

    By Ogden Nash

    • January 12, 2011 4:59 pm

      Thanks for this 🙂
      Nash just nails it, doesn’t he?

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