crowned with many crowns.

I did pick a dentist, sort of randomly, really. I can say that I want someone who won't recommend a bunch of procedures that I don't need, but it's sort of like looking for a mechanic. I know about as much about my teeth as I do about my car, so if the dentist tells me that I need something done, I pretty much have to take her word for it. This is why we have experts, I suppose.

I knew I needed dental work. I know that because I take less than stellar care of my teeth. So when the dentist told me that I was going to have to come back and see them really soon, I wasn't surprised. She was nice enough to explain all the issues, using pictures taken with the mouth camera. And with evidence like that, I could hardly contradict her. It's nice to be shown evidence, too, rather than just be told that #14 needs a MODL and that it's going to cost $80 out of pocket.

I am less enamored of the mouth camera than I was before. It seems like an instrument of shame to me now, because it make me look at just how many fillings I've had over the years. I knew it was a lot, having been present (though not necessarily "there") to receive each and every one of them. But it was embarrassing to look at each individual tooth and see just how little of it was tooth and how much of it was shiny metal. Even when it was that white stuff that they've started using recently, you could tell that something was plugging a hole. Going to the dentist was like going to confessional: Doctor, it's been two years since my last cleaning, and five years since my last flossing. Except my teeth were telling on me with all their little plugged holes.

And that's why I have a crown in my mouth and why I'm getting another: because some of my teeth are so plugged that the dentist thinks it would be better to just cover them up and pretend they never happened. I had an appointment Monday to do the crown preparation, which is the more unpleasant part. That's when they shave your tooth down all the way around so they can put a shell around it. They shot my mouth full of anesthetic, so I didn't feel a thing. Well, I didn't feel the tooth-shaving. I felt like I had a couple pairs of hands and a clamp and some gauze and several scary dental instruments sticking out of my mouth. And then I felt a different kind of pinch when I went up to the front to pay the bill.

I could blame my parents for not making me take better care of my pearly whites. It wasn't a big priority in our house. Sure, they told me to always brush my teeth and that I was going to get cavities and whatnot, but they never really enforced it. So maybe they failed a bit in that aspect of parenting, but they did right by me in a lot of other, more important areas, so we'll let it go. Now I have to enforce it myself, and I'm not great at that.

However, I have decided to give flossing a try. Let me tell you why: While I was sitting in the chair, waiting for my mouth to get nice and numb, I overheard the dentist talking to the patient in the next room. Apparently, when you floss, your gums stay healthy and firm. But when you don't floss, they get, well, flabby, and start hanging down over your teeth, where crap gets trapped up in there. The lady in the next room was not a flosser, and as a result, she had to get a special cleaning where they went under the gums. That sounds particularly terrible to me, like having someone stab you right under the fingernail, but in your mouth. Any time a teeth cleaning requires anesthetic, it's time to change your habits.

I've been flossing for six days. My gums don't bleed tiny dripping red accusations anymore. I don't enjoy it, but all I have to do is think of that under-gum cleaning to get inspired. Maybe I should find out more about the procedure, so I'll have something to scare my kids with when I'm forcing them to floss.