I wonder if I am the only person on the planet who loves going to the dentist. Easy for me to say because I’ve never had a root canal or anything major done in a dentist’s chair. For me it’s all about the cleaning. I’d say a good descaling is right up there with a massage or even all that crap that goes down behind closed doors at a spa. Keep your mani/pedis I say, bring me freshly polished teeth.
Back in Canada I went as often as my insurance allowed. I endured the full hour of scraping and grinding with my beloved dental hygienist Irene because the end justified the means. My dentist always popped in for a quick looky-loo before I left, a required formality perhaps, although I’m sure he came just to lord his perpetual golf tan over me. Every time I saw him I thought the dentists had it all over us pasty slaves to the hospital system, which is what he was thinking too.
Anyway, I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you how much I love my French dentist. She’s about an inch taller than me, automatically awesome in my book. Curiously, she too is that shade of ‘I was smart enough to choose dentistry over medicine’ bronze. She speaks slowly, is always smiling and has a swanky modern cabinet that looks like the bridge of Star Trek. But the best part is that she cleans my teeth with a sort of sandblaster doohickey. Every last remnant of tea or chocolate gets obliterated in about 10 minutes.
There’s only one downside: the dust. The first time I went I was covered. My hair was all gritty. There was a fine granular coating on my face that persisted no matter how many times I wiped it. I had to get a shower to finally get rid of it. I don’t have a picture of me but I do have one that will give you the general idea.
Oh my god I slay me. Two years I’ve been waiting to plaster (pun intended) this shot all over the web and then voilà! the perfect opportunity comes along. Okay, maybe this is a slight exaggeration of what goes on at the dentist’s office here but still, I think we can all agree that this photo is absolutely vital to fully convey the French experience.
It was taken during a renovation in Canada, who the hell knows which one. Neil’s a whiz with the tools but he’s a little light on the prep work and work site maintenance. As you can imagine, dust prevention and clean-up (and associated nagging) always fell to me and yesterday was no exception. I went to the dentist with a shower cap and a roll of paper towels in my purse. Not a mark on me. One more reason why women should run the world.