I just discovered, well hidden in the (last-opened-on-april-28-2013) drafts page a silly post I wanted to write (or rather, to complete and publish) about having watched French stand up comedian Jamel Debbouze, about a month (two months!!!!) ago, where I state, and I quote myself that "I laughed like a hyena."

What does this have to do with what I'm intending to convey to yah next?

Actually, this one thing. That it's been nearly two months since I've written my nostalgia-infused papa post, and that ever since, I watched Jamel Debbouze, hilarious Jamel Debbouze (where I, you know, laughed like a hyena and stuff.)

And dentist, we now move to you.


Mmm. You forget how painful a visit to the dentist is, after you have NOT been there for almost a year and a half (Can you see the scoffing ghost of me, nonchalantly seated in her seventeenth-century canopy chair, waving a fan at her too-powdered face, (she also happens to be from Louisiana) speak to me, outraged: "A year and a half? Oh dear, I'm positively certain you're mistaken!" Because I can.)

(It would be good to prevent your burgeoning prejudice by clarifying that I brush my teeth every night. I swear)

But, well. It's painful.

I mean, sure, there's the part where your chatterbox dentist is chattering the hour away, and you can't answer because your mouth is wide open and there are metallic instruments, slaughtering your teeth and gums without mercy. Everybody's been there. There are ads about that, even.

There's also the part where you begin to see your very own reflection in your dentist's eyeglasses, and then become fascinated with it, because for the first (or millionth) time, those construction site noises have a face, and a motion... and you don't get the chance to wander away, deep into that reflection, because you soon come to the realization that since logic dictates that behind glasses, usually, we find eyes, you are looking straight into your dentist's eyes. And that that's perturbing. And slightly creepy. So you look away. Obviously.

But then there's the part where pain settles in, and time won't fly by. (Not to turn this into a vampiric story, but I can taste the saltiness of the blood in my mouth till now.) Beyond the anesthetic, beyond the blood, there was a moment, and I swear to you, my soul detached itself from my body and, boiling with unconfined rage, screamed so loud the hairs on my arm stood up: "WHY? Why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you doing this TO ME?" before it fled away, Moaning-Myrtle-style, disappearing like thin fog somewhere in the room. And I couldn't say anything back. Clearly, because my mouth was open and the dentist was excavating like a maniac.

And there's the point at which my torturer said: "Wow, it's pretty impressive... (and here, forgive me, first, because I really thought like he was going to give me a compliment about my braces job, and how perfect my teeth looked after, and second, because what he said can be considered a little disgusting:) ... how you've let your teeth gather all of this plaque!"
Utter embarrassment.

Other than trying to convince me to whiten my teeth, or to add a structure to prevent me from grinding them, which apparently is affecting the gum in ways I won't describe into details for the faint of heart, I finally left his clinic, with half-swollen, half-numb lips, and lots and lots of residue pain.

Well, there you have my dentist adventures.

I would love to end this post by saying: Now you tell me about your dentist adventures!

But I know that's futile. No wait, FYOOTAYLE. Yep that's about right.

Salamat from da bed.

ps: I forgot to mention the splash-fest from one of the machines used. Dotted my eyeglasses and all.


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