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The Dental Hygienist Strikes Once More


The Dental Hygienist Strikes Again

You know the half an hour after the visit to the dental hygienist in which you’re not allowed to eat? So I always experience it as half a year. It all starts with plans that evolve in my head while the dental hygienist is taking the round tour in my mouth. The first plan is to set a follow-up appointment and come get rid of all the teeth. Who ever said we need teeth anyway? Take snails for example. They manage quite well without teeth. And if you take a good look at the animal kingdom you notice that most of it does possess teeth (Sponges serves as a perfect example for this). You may ask – why do we have teeth? I have no doubt we got it when we were expelled from heaven. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil must have been some sort of Gerber. After I consider the tooth extraction plan and reject it for public opinion reasons I turn to plan B: food. I will compensate myself for all my sufferings with food. Tasty, aromatic food, food that begins with chocolate and ends with chocolate, food that somewhere in the middle peeks at you from a cauldron, food that somewhere on the side has a few Tapas. Yum. The dental hygienist takes off the terrible fluoride splint. Half an hour without food, she says. Damn. I go out for a sleepwalker’s stroll in the mall, compulsively checking the clock. My wonderabouts get me to the fast food area. The guy from the Chinese stall offers me a toothpick with sweet and sour chicken. I cannot taste but I also cannot separate from the gift. It gives me strength in my difficult times. And besides, I’m an Israeli, you don’t throw away a free piece of chicken even if you own the entire mall. I do another round, holding my toothpick between two fingers and finding out it has immense focusing power. People get locked on it, escort it with their looks and ask themselves what the hell is going on here. I go to work for fifteen years, punch the clock twice a day like a good kid, pay mortgage, barely cover a visit to the dental hygienist, and this girl gets a toothpick with sweet and sour chicken for free? The provocative toothpick disrupts the environment, I can feel it to the roots of my molars, but in five minutes the half an hour will be over, and if I don’t eat the chicken I may not have the energy to march back to the food court and will collapse on the way. The five minutes pass and finally I put the pullet in my mouth. The inner and outer conflict are solved like in every well educated script. Some things you get for free and some things you have to pay for your entire life. That’s the way it goes with teeth. Beyond that I have no advice for lessening the human suffering, except eat, drink and be merry, for in half a year you’re seeing the dental hygienist again.


From → Mind Body

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