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A Letter to My Cousin’s Husband, Bob, Who is a Dentist

Dear Bob,

Don’t be alarmed that I’m writing a letter to you. You aren’t being visited by a 19th century Pride and Prejudice character. It’s just me, your wife’s cousin.

I’ve been thinking of you a lot lately, because I’ve been taking care of some dentistry problems. Nothing serious, just your average everyday stuff that people have to deal with when their “permanent” teeth stop living up to their nickname.

I have not skipped a biannual visit to the dentist since I was in college. And I take excellent care of my teeth. (I do, you know. I honestly do. Despite what you may have heard and the “little bit of perio” that one nasty-ass dental hygienist said she could see in my Facebook profile picture. Yes, that happened.) But despite all the  twice daily flossing, the $150 Sonicare toothbrush, toothpaste so expensive it’s behind lock and key in Walgreens, and not having popcorn since 1989, my teeth are being assholes. (more…)

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Now That I Can Speak: Answers for my Dental Hygienist

I hesitate to write about my dental hygienist, because I’m afraid she’s going to read this blog and I’m going to have to face her in six months. If I disparage her, she’s got sharp instruments and a shitty attitude that I could see her using against me.

I’ve really got to stop telling people where my blog can be found. Because this dental hygienist and the rest of my medical professionals are a freaking overflowing cornucopia of possible blog topics. I try to be mysterious about how I spend my days, so that I can write snarky things about them, but I inevitably blurt out the URL and then instantly regret it.

I’m going to forge ahead with this dental hygienist story because I seriously doubt  this chick reads humor blogs. She doesn’t appear to have a sense of humor and doesn’t seem to want one. What she does want is to be a real dentist. The way she looks down at the chart, looks up at the patient with a tilt of the head, the weary-yet-amused smile, all scream I WENT TO MEDICAL  SCHOOL when in fact she has an associate’s degree.

None of that bothered me until she pulled the old ask-essay-questions-that-you-can’t-answer-because-your-ou-i-aw-uoul-uh-eeah-or. Ah, I thought, she’s old school. Fine. The first question she asked me I tried to answer with Morse code using only my uvula and a series of expressive eye blinks. After that failed, I decided to wait until I got home and answer her questions here. (more…)

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