I’m the darling of my dentist’s office. Why, you ask? Because I floss every single day. Sometimes — check this out — I floss twice.
Before you write me off as a goody-two-shoes, let me add that I don’t get oil changes as often as I should, and I typically don’t finish my taxes until 11 p.m. the night before they’re due. I think I have a couple of overdue parking tickets cooling on my desk, and I definitely don’t drink 64 ounces of water a day. (Seriously, though, how does anybody drink that much?)
Really, this whole conscientious thing about flossing is kind of an anomaly. In fact, I ignored the advice of my dentist (and my mother) for years. It just didn’t mean that much to me. As long as there were no food particles advertising what I’d had for lunch, what was the big deal? It was just one more thing to spend time on, one more rule to follow.
And then I met a boy I wanted to kiss.
As with most cases, he didn’t really notice me. The most he ever talked to me was during rehearsals for the play we were in together. But here’s the thing: we were the leads. Main boy part, main girl part. And as we got closer and closer to blocking the big, climactic scene where love is confessed, I started to get really concerned about my oral hygiene.
I took to brushing three times a day…no joke. Once in the morning, once after lunch, and once more right before heading to rehearsal in the afternoon. And flossing? I did it while examining my teeth’s reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing for any suspect particles that could sour my breath. I even carried a reel of floss around in my purse, just in case.
Of what, I’m not sure.
In fact, the whole business now seems like a big construct for something I couldn’t control. I liked this boy, but I knew that being compelled by the demands of a play was probably the only way he would even think about kissing me. I didn’t really have any hope of, like, romantic triumph…my greatest hope was that he wouldn’t be grossed out.
That was good enough for me.
But what it shows me, in retrospect, is how dire predictions for the future can’t really motivate us to change. We might think “I want to have this kind of job,” or “I want to be in shape,” or “I would love to play the piano like that.” Or even “I want to kiss that guy.” But those are all visions of an alternate reality, an already accomplished future. Taking actual steps toward that future is rife with struggle, failure, and disappointment. Looking at where we are, and comparing it the future we hope for.
Well, maybe you’re the “slow and steady wins the race” person. I’m more the “slow and wobbly makes me think ‘screw it, who cares anyway?'” person. Unless I can find a way to make those changes relevant, right here and now.
The ideal of good dental hygiene was never compelling to me. But kissing a boy without fear of embarrassment? That’s clear and present motivation.
As it turned out, I didn’t get to kiss him. The director pulled a clever bait-and-switch ending that left me standing alone on the stage while cute boy walked off. It made for great theatre, a devastated lead actress, and some late nights in the consoling presence of old movies and Haagen Dazs.
But I always flossed afterward. For real.
Flickr photo (cc) by StephenMitchell
