Author: Brandia Deatherage | Published: June 4th, 2010

    I've never cared much for perfectly straight teeth, but clean teeth and fresh breath are essential. I mean, who could really stand wearing a clear, plastic retainer every night for the rest of their life? I'd just loose it in the cafeteria trashcan anyway.

    My orthodontist tried so hard to get my teeth in line, but my chompers have always had a mind of their own. As soon as my braces came off and the belt sander was moved a safe distance from my mouth, it was as if my large teeth removed their girdle and let out a sigh of relief. Their undisciplined appearance may offend some, including my father who paid for my braces --but they are MY teeth, and I love them just the way they are.

    In fact, I think they are beautiful. They are big, white, crooked and resilient. I have gone to bed so many nights without brushing them, and all 28 of my teeth have maintained.

    Years ago I cheated on my faithful family dentist, Dr. Mark McCoy (whose office has become a fixture on Main Street in downtown Washington), just because the new dentist in Chocowinity, Dr. Angie Rhodes, had massage chairs, headphones and painted murals.

    During my chair massage, Dr. Rhodes "found" seven or eight cavities in my never-been-drilled teeth! Days later, my sister Meredith, who has the most perfect teeth you've ever seen, had the same experience. There is no way.

    If only we hadn't strayed! We were young, stupid and entranced by her Turkish delights! Maybe Dr. McCoy doesn't have headsets streaming Moby or Sarah Mclaughlin, but he always says "No cavities!" and that is music to my ears.

    After allowing such unnecessary damage to be inflicted upon my teeth, the only set I get, I want to try to make it up to them.

I'm such a dork.
    Therefore, on Day 8 of Lent I'm going to begin a ritual of dental hygiene that is seen (by me) as a peculiarity of the uptight, a symbol of the superficial. (No, unlike everyone else, I'm not getting my teeth capped.) I'm going to start flossing!

    There's nothing more unsexy than plaque buildup. But don't take my word for it. The authority on the matter, the American Dental Association, advises flossing one or more times a day. Nothing says sexy like deferring to one's authorities.

    Beginning today, I'm going to floss after every single meal. Aside from having to be gentle with my virgin gums and finding privacy, when on the go, to floss, rinse and spit, it shouldn't be much of a hassle. This morning, I threw some Oral B satin floss in my bag and voila!

    So, it's been three days since I latently began observing the Lenten season. I've made three simple, some would say boring, changes to my lifestyle: Day 6, drinking eight glasses of water a day; Day 7, waking every morning thirty minutes before twilight, after seven hours of sleep; and Day 8, flossing.

    I have had some setbacks. Last night I tried to fall asleep at the aforementioned time of 10:49 p.m., but some silly people in my house were up microwaving egg rolls and tamales until Midnight, and I couldn't sleep until they made me a PB&J with milk. Also, I find it difficult to carry water EVERYWHERE I go, but I'm sure it will all start to feel more natural as time progresses.

    This article provided courtesy of our sister site: Beaufort County Now

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