Hey, My Gums Are Sensitive. Would You Mind Not Poking Them With That Pointy Hook?

Today was dental appointment day, that lovely day that comes twice a year when you’re fortunate enough to have dental insurance. I’ll start by saying I love my dentist and hygienist, just in case they happen to read this. Please don’t stab me in the tongue with something.

Joking about a trip to the dentist is almost chiche. My favorite routine is the one Bill Cosby did, where he imitated how you sound on Novocaine. “Smboke! Fiber! Fiber ibn mby mbouth!” (I added the video at the bottom of the post to see the comedic genius for yourself).

But joking about the dentist is also extremely easy.

Let’s start our journey in the waiting room. Notice the fluorescent lighting, the lined up chairs, and the coffee table which holds back issues of popular magazines. You can hear the receptionist arguing with someone’s insurance company on the phone. You’re nervous, so you closely examine the fish tank/photographs/dental product fliers while you wait.

Finally, it’s your turn to sit in the dental chair. The hygienist fits you with a paper bib to catch errant slobber. Let’s face it – the next half hour will not be your sexiest on record. You find yourself in a horizontal position, open your mouth, and the scraping and poking begin. I think that hook scratching against a tooth is one of the worst sounds anywhere.

scratch scratch scratch

Hygienist: So, have any big plans for the summer?

Of course you can’t answer, but you don’t want to be rude, so what she gets is some kind of gurgling.

You: grlgbshj.

Hygienist: Sounds fun!

I think hygienists must go through training on how to translate our gurglings.

When the scraping/poking/bleeding is complete, you get to choose your flavor of polish. Oh goody! Cinnamon, please!

Now, at predictable intervals, you have either a spinning polisher, a water squirter, or my favorite, the straw sized vacuum thingy that makes it feel like it will suck out your brain when you close your lips around it. You’re not sure why you chose cinnamon because you can’t taste anything anyway.

When the cleaning is finally over, the dentist comes to get a look at your teeth. You either have good news – no cavities! – or bad news – you need to come back to get that tooth filled. Which brings us back to the Novocaine jokes.

I’ll let Bill finish up there. Take it away, Bill!

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