Thursday, October 26

An accomplished woman

Can I play the piano? No. Draw? No. Speak 800 different languages fluently? No. But can I brush and floss? Hell yeah, bitches. I don't know what it is, but I am ridiculously proud of how well I take care of my teeth. Maybe it's the excessive praise from my dentist (today, my mouth full of shiny teeth deserved "a rose") or the solid Ukrainian mutterings from my hygienist ("Perfect, absolutely no problems. Wonderful!"), but I can't help it. I walk out of my dentist's office with a strut. Look at me and my clean teeth and my interesting mouth! I'm an obsessive flosser! I'm king of the world!

My life is sad.

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