Wednesday, July 24, 2013
That's right. In a recent survey, 9 out of 10 people said dental pain is nothing when compared to pain of social embarrassment. The tenth person simply twitted, "OMG! I just wet myself at the dentist and I feel fine." (This survey must be true; I read it on the Internet. After I wrote it.)
So why should I fear nasal follicles, especially mine? It started a couple of years ago when my body crossed that half-century mark. Seemingly overnight, random nose hairs - once slow-growing and stealthy-black - began mutating into a rapid-sprouting shade of white known as "mistakable thin slivers of snot".
I groomed them several times a week. But even with an industrial-strength weed-whacker, my trim job didn't cut it. If I were bald, a week without trimming would give me a handle-bar comb-over guaranteed to gross out the best of you.
I wasn't worried about reclining in the dentist's chair. My embarrassing worry was of a wayward hair or five waving frantically at the dental technician while I tried to breath and she tried to clean my teeth. All I could imagine was her thinking, "Why can't this unsophisticated idiot clean his nose?"
So I decided on a brilliant tactic of diversion. Just before the appointment, I ate two boxes of Oreo cookies.
With the creamy white filling scrapped off.
My plan worked very well. By the time I clogged the suction tube for the 3rd time, they had the vacuum pressure turned high enough to pull my belly button inward.
More importantly, the dental hygienist didn't say a thing about my nose hairs. Not only did she not look towards my nose, she hardly looked at me at all.
Although it was a bit awkward when she tried to floss my chin.