I'm pretty obsessive about my dental hygiene. It makes it much harder to accept dental criticism, such as, "You need to floss harder." But eventually I suck it up and increase my daily flossing time from seven minutes to ten minutes. I once heard that ideally, one is supposed to brush one's teeth for two full minutes, so I make sure I do at least four just to be on the safe side. I would say it's over-the-top, but my older sister spends about twenty minutes per daily session on her teeth, with high-tech electrically powered gear that shoots water between the crevices in one's teeth with laser-like precision. I don't have that much money, but I do have a gigantic toothbrush (that is also eco-friendly, because you replace the head every couple of months but keep the handle, which is earth-colored and made of recycled plastic bags).
I had a cavity once when I was about twelve, but it wasn't deep enough to need a filling, so I was always proud of my expertly tended teeth. It may have something to do with the fact that while in the third grade, one of my classmates brought her dentist father in for Career Day, and he showed us pictures of cavities and gum disease. I was so terrified by the experience that I didn't drink a drop of soda for at least two years, and I still don't really drink the stuff. I don't even remember having a toothache until about two years ago (unless you count tooth pain associated with the losing of teeth, or installation of braces, or whitening). So I felt embarrassed going to the dentist yesterday with a lackluster mouth.
Amazingly, the dentist didn't chide me for anything. He didn't tell me to stop eating treats or to floss harder (Thank God, I don't think I could stand more than 10 minutes of flossing per day). What he did suggest was even worse.
After filing down my troublesome left molar to adjust my bite, the dentist wiped my face and made a grave pronouncement. "Hopefully, things should improve in the next week now that we've adjusted your bite. I think, just to be on the safe side, you should wear a mouthguard at night."
"Wait, a mouthguard?" I pictured myself in one of my negligees, giving my husband a come-hither look and smiling to reveal a large mouth appliance. I shuddered.
"We can make one for you," said the dentist. "You'll just need to come back to get impressions made, then we'll send it off and have it molded to your teeth."
"Uhhh... Is it optional?" All I could think about was how dorky it would be to wear a mouthguard. And then I thought about how I am slowly turning into Liz Lemon, Tina Fey's character on 30 Rock. Funny characters on TV wear mouthguards. Sophisticated New York women would never be caught dead in one, right?
So naturally, I left without making an appointment to get impressions made for the horrid thing, and I went to pick up a bottle at Brooklyn Wine Exchange. I knew I was going to require some wine to recover from this blow.
Over a plate of hummus, I broke the bad news to my husband. "So... would you still find me attractive if I had to wear a mouthguard at night?"
"Preow!" said Seth, arching one eyebrow in his trademark jovially-seductive look. "That could be kind of hot."
I thought back to one instance early in our relationship when we were in the car and Seth suggested that it would be sexy if I could find stickers or something to make it look like I had braces. "Is that a part of your braces fantasy?"
My husband doesn't understand the horror of mouth appliances because he's never had them. When the dentist suggested he get braces as a kid, his father asked him if he wanted them. Seth said no, and his dad breathed a sigh of relief. I, on the other hand, did my time in braces, with all the fixins. The braces were followed by top and bottom retainers molded to the shape of my teeth, and the application of composite bonding to two of my teeth, which were replaced with veneers two years ago. I still remember the train track marks on the inside of my lips. To someone who never went through that, dental appliances may seem like an amusing novelty, but to someone with a thick orthodontic past and a high level of dental vanity, the prospect of wearing a mouthguard is deeply shameful.
"You'd be wearing it while I'm asleep," my husband pointed out. "I'd never notice it."
Which is true, because he always falls asleep first. And I keep the bedroom door closed at night, so not even my cat would ever see me with the mouthguard in. Why I am still hesitant?
I think I'll just have to approach this as I approached the wearing of braces: make it as colorful as possible. These aren't too bad, but I would really like a gold one, or something that resembles grillz.
-B.S.
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