Marathon Man 2 : Nashers Return...
I've just got back from my first dentist visit in 27 years.
The dentist was gay, cute and very professional (Wimpole Street, darling). I got his number from QX. I'd recommended him. Steve.
I filled in a fairly brief form and before I knew where I was I was lying back on his chair of torture gazing up at him. He offered me a drink of water (I declined), some anesthetic (I declined) and a winning smile (I accepted).
"Nice set of teeth", he said. "Thanks", I mumbled. He then proceeded to drill as if looking for oil. I squirmed a bit as a few things flew out of my mouth (tartar? jawbone?) and were promptly sucked up by the vacuuming Aussie nurse, Jane, as she nattered on about Kath & Kim (we'd earlier bonded as fans in the waiting room). I tried to think sexy thoughts to try and take my mind off the discomfort and occasional pain I was feeling. But none came.
But it didn't take long for him to finish. Within half an hour I was scrapped clean and polished. "No need for any fillings", he said. What a relief! "But you might like to try our whitening treatment - it's on offer at the moment." "OK", I said, "Why not?" Perhaps my head was still spinning a bit from having dodged the bullet with the fillings.
Within ten minutes I had pink clay in my mouth making casts of my nashers to house some overnight bleaching agent. Ten minutes after that I was out on the street £200 poorer but generally having enjoyed the experience. When I say 'enjoyed' what I really mean is 'relieved'. Revealed that I've got over the psychological barrier of going to the dentist again.
I guess I'm quite pleased that I'm now 43 and never had a filling too. My mother needs to take part of the credit though - we never had sweets as kids.