Biked to the dentist yesterday for my semi annual cleaning. Cold here in Boston, but no snow on the ground, so safe bicycling. Great dentist. He’s a bicyclist, who says I can bring my bike up and store it in the office while I’m in for my appointment. (Not that I took him up on the offer. I ride an old bike around town, not high on the list of “most stolen” bikes.) But then I had to update my health form. I hate that shit. “Why can’t I do this online?” I asked. The receptionist gave me a withering look. “You’d still have to fill it in,” as if to say, “What is your problem?” So I took the clipboard (a device I feel is the last hurrah of male authority implementalia in existence. clipboard!?) So I filled it out, checking “no” to everything (high blood pressure, asthma, hang nails)(I mean why does my dentist need to know these things?) until I get to allergies, where I check yes and then write “Chocolate” because good dark chocolate does make me sneeze (god knows why). And then the biggest surprise of all, the last question reads, “Do you like your smile?” And this makes me smile. It’s such a friendly question, but also very perceptive vis a vis a visit to the dentist, since the answer says everything about how you feel about your teeth. What’s a smile if not a center stage display of your pearly whites? I checked “Yes” that I like my smile. Handed in my clipboard to the receptionist, sat through the tooth scraping and polishing biked home with a smile on my face. And cleaner teeth.
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