Forgive Me, Father, for I Have Not Flossed.

So I went to my regular teeth cleaning. I walked into the office, with its usual magazines sprawled across a table like bodies on a battlefield. I took my seat in the waiting room, finding myself under the rather disturbing scrutiny of a stuffed dog with human teeth in its gaping mouth. I never will understand the putting of the human teeth in the animals. It's not cute or charming at all, and looks like the deranged creations of a serial killer. It doesn't help that the mouths are opened supposedly in a smile that looks more like a scream. The stuffed-dog-serial-killer-trophy stared into my soul, and I was almost relieved when I was sent back to the dentist chair.

The walls were covered with posters warning against lack of teeth brushing. Bloody, yellow stumps were on every wall. They were even on the ceiling of the room I was being treated in. I had to brush my teeth before I sat down, and I took care to brush my teeth like a total boss, like the best brushing ever done, constantly checking in the mirror to see if any assistants were about to swoop down on me and lash me for bad technique. With a sigh of relief that I had been spared, I took a seat in the chair.

It was then I realized what I was experiencing. I walked into the dentist's feeling judgement, knowing that the people could see my faults tatooed across my face. That I didn't floss. Forgive me, Father, for I haven't flossed. Dentistry is a religion. You sin, you go to Hell. You don't brush your teeth, your teeth look like Hell. But if you follow the lord's will (i.e brush your teeth), your teeth will be white and glistening and saved. But whatever I do it's never good enough, I always have to do more to please the Lord. I can never equal the perfection of my dentist, whose teeth are holy. He pokes around in my mouth with sharp objects and makes recommendations. His ways are above mine. I follow his will without question, for he moves in mysterious ways. But he has a plan for me, and my teeth will be saved.

Think about it. It's safer to believe in my dentist, because if I don't, there's a chance my teeth will rot. Better safe than sorry.