When I was growing up, I was very proud of how good a kid I was. Upon reflection, this is most likely due to my suppressed sexuality and trying to be perfect in every way, because I thought that at root I was a gay monster, but, like, we’ll save that for the memoirs.
Anyway, part of my “good kid” persona was getting an A+ report card from the dentist. I brushed every night. I even used the little flossy thing to clean under my permanent retainer.
My dental hygienist and I had a great rapport, and, after a visit, I fully expected both her and my dentist to tell my mother how amazing my teeth (and I) were.
“Not a single dental problem! Tedd’s got a great smile!”
So, all through youth, I was very good at teeth (or…like thought so). Then, I went to college, then taught abroad, then came to Chicago.
When I got to Chicago, I found out that not only were my teeth not perfect, but also...a lot of dentists are like crooks?
A brief history:
My first Chicago dentist basically said I was dying. I spent about $5K of money I didn’t have as a 23-year-old to get a crown and some other work done. Then, after that, they sent me another $10K estimate because they alleged I needed all my fillings pulled out and replaced by space materials. At that point, I decided I needed a second opinion. And even if I did need NASA epoxy in my mouth, I would just die because I couldn’t afford it.
The next dentist was a very sweet woman, but she didn’t really have a gentle touch. I thought she was going to rip off my jaw during the cleaning. She didn’t need to send me to Cape Canaveral, but I also didn’t want to have a sore mouth for a week after every cleaning, so I scouted something else.
THEN I found an amazing dentist (if you’re on the north side of Chicago, highly recommend Dr. Sfikas). We had a great relationship, but then they stopped taking my insurance, so I had to search again. (Honestly, top 5 saddest moments of my adulthood.)
After Sfikas, I went to a dentist near my condo. He was…very, very, very, very, very well-seasoned. Like, may have been a passenger on the Mayflower. That wasn’t the problem; the problem came when he looked in my mouth and was like, “Forsooth! Ye have the affliction of the gnashing of the teeth.” [Remember, he was on the Mayflower.] Anyway, I’d never heard that I grinded my teeth, and he was going to charge me for a mouthguard, so I said goodbye to him.
At this point, I honestly felt like I was back in 2014 and dating again. I could not find a match to save my life. BUT I finally found a dentist by my office. Love the place. It’s great. No one is trying to send me to space, break my jaw, or invite me to the first Thanksgiving.
So, that history is to tell you that I have struggled to find a dentist that I trust, because they can be shady characters.
Anyway, even in my golden age with Dr. Sfikas, I lost my “good boy” dentist persona. No matter what I did, I could only get a C on my report card.
At first, the hygienist thought I wasn’t flossing. But I do! I floss! So, she like did this tutorial, and I conscientiously jumped back into flossing.
The next time I went, she was basically like “Your mouth is still garbage. You gotta floss.” So, I doubled down. In the next six months I flossed twice a day.
When I went back in, she was like “This is better. What are you doing?”
I’m like “Oh, I’m flossing twice a day.”
She says, “That’s kind of excessive. You shouldn’t floss too much.”
WHAT. WHAT WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY?
So, then the insurance changed, and I did the dentist search again.
When I found the new dentist, I got the same: “Your mouth sucks.” Situation. I didn’t really think much of it, because it’s sucked in the past, so I just kept doing what I was doing.
This time I go in, and the lady is like, “Things look good!” Then about 5 minutes later, she says, “So you have some bleeding and plaque buildup… Do you floss?”
YES. YES, I FLOSS. NEARLY EVERY DAY.
I told her that not only do I floss, but I water floss and brush twice a day. She looked very skeptical and then goes, “Well, I’m going to measure your teeth now.”
I have never had that done before. I realized at this point, that things might be pretty bad if she is “measuring”, so I laid back and watched The British Bake Off on the TV and waited for her to finish.
When she finished, she told me that they have this scale for gum measuring. 1-2 is basically fine. 3-4 is questionable and then 5+ is gingivitis/big trouble.
It was devastating then, as a former A+ dentist kid, to have her let me know that I had…wait for it…yes…GINGIVITIS.
I immediately flashed back to toothpaste ads when I was a kid and the absolute stigma they put on gingivitis. You may as well have been eating horse poop, walking around, and breathing in people’s faces if you had GINGIVITIS.
So she looks down at me and says, “Sooooo you need to do the whole water floss, floss, brush thing twice a day. To get back on track.”
“But, Miss…Will I ever be gingivitis-free again?”
“Maybe…just maybe…”
She left me alone then and I sat in silence watching talented British bakers and pondering what had become of my life if I now was almost 40 and had gingivitis. Was I going to be okay? Would friends and colleagues start calling me Gingi V? Or Big Vitis? What was on the other side of this?
Despite the hygienist’s doom and gloom, the dentist rolled in and tapped one tooth and is like “Looks great!”
When I left I called my mom because she has notoriously bad teeth and, evidently, was passing on this trait to all her kids. She laughed and said “Sucks to suck! I have veneers!” then we gossiped about the rest of the family. She did provide the solace of “Well, regardless of what’s going on with your teeth, they look nice!”
Which is also what my husband said.
So now I have gingivitis, need NASA substances in my fillings, and am no longer a good dentist person. There are worse existential crises to have. And, it’s kind of poetic that I would spend my childhood wanting to have perfect teeth as a way to hide my gayness, but then as an adult have perfect-looking teeth with a gingivitis monster hidden inside of them.
Why are Tedd’s teeth so big? Well, I guess they’re full of secrets. And you can bet they are going to have the s**t flossed out of them over the next 6 months.
Next time, I’m getting an A+.