My teeth aren’t yellow.
They’re just not as white as they could be.
I get lazy. I don’t always brush. *audience recoils in horror*
I also drink all the bad stuff: coffee, tea, sparkling beverages, red wine, more red wine, etc
So my teeth have seen some shit (not literally, thank god)
I happened to be walking through the tony little neighborhood of Pacific Palisades and saw a dental group advertising teeth whitening.
I was intrigued. I used to work on Venice Beach and pass the teeth-whitening hut next to the weed dispensary every day, but this seemed much more legit.
Curiosity got the best of me and I walked in.
I could tell this was a legit dentist’s office because someone went to the great struggle of ensuring that there was an intense oceanic theme in the place. Also the kids tables gave it away.
I walked up to the receptionist, a dead ringer for Finding Nemo’s “Darla” in 20 years, who said that they had walk-in availability. And for $299, who could resist a BriteSmile white-as-fuck smile?
Obviously I couldn’t.
The doctor had a weak handshake. Bad sign.
He scolded me for having tartar on my lower teeth. Gee doc, maybe it’s cuz I just told you I haven’t been to the dentist in OVER a YEAR or just ate a STEAK BURRITO for lunch.
He applied the mouth-opener, the tongue-restrictor, the bite-down clamp, the gum-guarders, the lip-coverers, the tooth-gel, and other devices of torture before my mouth felt like it was officially being hygienically raped.
The only soothing aspect was the hot Latina nurse. My confidence was shattered when I realized her only mental image of me was my mouth stretched
Then, a UV wand in the shape of a crescent was placed in front of my vulnerable mouth, snazzy orange shooting glasses were applied to my face, and with an unnerving jet of blue light, I was off to the Pearly Gates.
And for 20 minutes I sat in this odd position, trying to text around the arm of the device while making sure my arm blood loss wasn’t too significant and that I didn’t drop my phone in my mouth.
After the 20 minutes, the limpwristed dentist returned to add more gel and turn the lights back on.
20 minutes later, he did the same.
Before the amazing Technicolor lightshow, I was informed that 5-10% of people will feel a little bit of sensitivity. The dentist mumbled something about “pain pills” but I couldn’t quite understand.
In the last 20 minute session, about halfway through, I felt a shooting pain my lower tooth that quickly subsided. Assuming I had bumped it on something, I returned to less-panicked state and my butt-sweat subsided.
The results were superb. My teeth were stunningly white and clean.
Parking was only validated for 30 minutes. Exactly what sort of dental office does 30 minute procedures that’s located north of Tijuana?
I approached the younger-looking parking guy, ticket in hand.
“That will be $3.00 cash please.”
Cash? CASH? But…all I have is card…
Since there was no gate, I was anticipating having to gun it out of there and never return.
Unexpectedly, his face curled into a sly and off-putting grin, as his voice lowered to a near-whisper, emitting “that’s okay…you can just…pay me next time”.
“Er…thx dude” I mumbled before I gunned it out of there.
My enjoyment of the Sunset Blvd twisties and flagrantly violating the hapless speed-limit-measuring signs was marred by that sharp pain again.
Oh God.
Bottom tooth. OW. Then top tooth. OW. Then a different bottom tooth. OW.
Each one crashed like a tsunami of hurt, then retreated to an unnerving calm, before crashing again.
I limped into my house, defeated as I slinked up towards the bathroom mirror.
My teeth looked hella white. The best they’ve ever looked.
But GODDAMN. The PAIN.
I need PILLS.
The strongest we had was ibuprofen. I shotgunned two with two glasses of water (not only was my mouth punctuated with knifepoint pains but it was also drier than the GobiSaharaAtacama) and proceeded to attempt to get things done.
Within 30 minutes I was curled around a pillow in bed and passed out, weakened by the pain, my health levels decreased from five hearts to none. Not one with the little sliver in it. None.
I awoke an hour later, still dry and, worse, disoriented.
The pain had generally subsided, but the room temp chicken I ate for dinner still set off a minor pain alert.
As of the next day, the jabs were gone, and I’m left with pearly whites.
Was it worth it?
Absolutely.
