All Glamour, All the Time

It’s hard to maintain my rep as a Grade-A sexy motherfucker without the photographic evidence to back it up, so let’s just see what I got myself up to this past weekend…

Gotcha! Yes, my emergency root canal has spawned on a drawn-out saga of frequent visits to the NYU Dental School, where I’m having a number of lingering issues resolved. Because that stuff costs some scratch (of which I don’t have quite enough, which is what got me in this position in the first place), I agreed to spend Saturday as a guinea pig for my teen dentist’s licensing exam. Basically, that means it was a regular drill-n-fill, but with long breaks where I would sit around with my mouth clamped open and have strangers come by and check out the progress being made by the teen dentist and his frat-boy assistant. Occasionally, I even got to walk around the hallways like some purple-bedecked monster of some sort so people in another room could check out my teeth. Ah, the things we do for science.

Honestly, I did it for the free filling and the additional discounts, and also because my dentist — who I fondly think of as Doogie Howser, DDS — is a nice kid who needed a favor just as much as I needed a free filling.

He’s not actually a teenager (he probably passed out of his teens at least a couple of years ago), but it is a bit disconcerting to hit that age where you’re likely to be putting your health and well-being into the hands of people much younger than you. Luckily, it’s a lot easier to handle when you automatically get second and third opinions from the faculty advisors every step of the way, even if it takes a little longer. Also, it’s not entirely unpleasant to have cute straight boys stick tools in your mouth and blush when you joke around with them.