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Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Every time I go to the dentist ...

Every time I go to the dentist, the hygienist asks me if I'm expecting my period soon. And I always say yes, because I feel like that's the right answer to her question. (incidentally, they also ask me stuff like that while I'm at the gynecologist, and I always answer "Two Tuesdays ago" since that seems like a good response. Apparently women are all expected to know when Aunt Flow is coming, and be ready to rattle off that information like it was an address or a social security number.)

Why does the dental hygienist care about my menstrual cycle, you ask? Because I guess we womenfolk tend to bleed more -- from everywhere -- when Aunt Flow is packing up her car for the drive down from Jersey, and the hygienist needs an explanation for why my mouth looks like this:

I go see that butcher four times a year. I have kickass union dental insurance that covers cleanings every three months ... and apparently I'm a masochist. Every visit goes about the same:



And she just nods, diving back into my poor abused mouth with her tools. Today, as usual, she butchered with gusto, and I took it like a champ. Then I gingerly chewed down a Chipotle burrito to reward myself. I don't have to go to the dentist again for THREE WHOLE MONTHS!

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