Yay Hooray, It’s Toothbrush Day!
New Toothbrush Day is a bit of a mixed bag for me.
On the one hand, it promises the wonder and majesty of a new toothbrush: such a pleasure after I’ve worn the old one down to a sad little scrubby wand that’s collapsed under the weight of its modest dreams.
A new toothbrush offers firm new bristles, that “fresh from the dentist” feeling the ads are always promising, and any manner of wild adventures associated with the special features of any particular brush.
(Except for the one whose bristles start out blue, then fade over time. I worry that the dye will turn out to be carcinogenic, like the x-ray machines they used to have in shoe stores.)
This romance can last for days–even a week, depending on what I’ve bought. But like most things worth having in this life, the joy of a new toothbrush comes at a high price.
Before I’ve even reached the Toothbrush Wall at London Drugs, already I’m paralyzed by indecision. They sell at least a hundred completely different toothbrushes, ranging in price from two to ten dollars for no obvious reason, and they’re never the same hundred toothbrushes that were on offer when I bought the last one.
How do you decide?
What if you choose a dud?
Oh, sure, you could just go back and buy another one, but that’s a slippery slope, my friends. Soon enough you’ll be second-guessing every little thing: this one doesn’t have a rubber grip. This one doesn’t scrub between your teeth for that hard-to-reach plaque. This one costs ten dollars.
(It’s the principle of the thing. Also, I am usually broke.)
Even if I’m at London Drugs for work reasons, I have to come back and buy a toothbrush on my own time, because there ain’t no way I’m getting out of that aisle in less than twenty minutes.
After I settle on a style, I need to find the right bristles, and then I get hung up on the colour for some reason even though I’m not trying to match it with anything, and then, inevitably, I get into an imaginary feud with the little old lady who’s always shuffling around directly behind me, trying to find the off-brand salted cashews that aren’t even in that aisle.
It’s a nightmare.
So you can imagine how thrilled I was when I weathered this ordeal yet again and was rewarded with The Best Toothbrush In The Universe. (Or the Reach TOTAL CARE Massage Toothbrush, if you’re going to be a stickler about it.)
I chose it the way I usually end up choosing a toothbrush: by flipping out around about minute 19 and muttering “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Melodie, just pick one!” But as soon as I put it in my mouth, I was magically transported to Toothbrush Paradise.
I don’t expect anything but cleanliness from my toothbrush experience, mainly. I have TMJ, and a broken tooth, and nerve damage from bad dental surgery, and crowding, and a crossbite/grinding twofer that’s caused my lefthand molars to wear down over time…
Rare is the day I don’t notice some unpleasant sensation in my mouth, is what I’m saying.
They’re not kidding about the massage deal, though; I started drooling like a St. Bernard as soon as I started brushing. It feels so good! It feels so nice.
I’ve always brushed my teeth way longer than the recommended three minutes, because I have this crazy fantasy that this will make up for not having dental coverage, but with this toothbrush, I have to point out to myself that I’m getting into kind of a weird area, brushing and brushing because it makes my mouth so tingly and happy.
I want to buy 150 of these toothbrushes today so I can have them for the entire rest of my life. (No I don’t want to live much past age 65. People in my family wither away mentally in their dotage if they don’t die of cancer while they’re still young, and I’m weird and unmanageable enough as it is.)
I don’t even care if it gets me booked on Hoarders. I throw my mummified rats out on time.
I look forward to brushing my teeth now. It’s an occasion. I squeeze toothpaste onto this brush and I think “Ohh, you know what’s comin’, baby,” and then there it is. It gets my day off to a good start; this small moment of perfect, mindless happiness is mine to keep, no matter what horrors the day should bring.
In all seriousness, and without reservation, I am here to tell you that when I use this toothbrush, I feel sorry for people who don’t have monster mouth like mine, and people who don’t have teeth, and people who don’t have access to toothbrushes. (I’ve always felt sorry for the no-toothbrush people anyway, when I’ve thought about it, but I feel especially sorry for them now.)
I don’t lord my advantage over them like I normally would, and nor do I wallow in self-pity over the reason for my pleasure.
Instead, I cherish my toothbrush like a leprechaun and his pot o’ gold. When we’re separated, I’m like Kate Winslet in Sense and Sensibility after Willoughby dumps her ass: wandering the moors in the pouring rain, inconsolable, moaning “Toothbrush… oh, toothbrush…”
Fuck dental floss, though. Fuck it right in the ear.
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I’m trading in my Colgate 360 for a Reach!
Make sure it’s this particular one, or your whole operation will go STRAIGHT TO HELL.
This TED talk mentions a woman who can bring herself to orgasm by brushing her teeth. I wonder what brush she uses?
This conversation just went to a really weird place.
It’s science!
I guess I knew somebody would Go There on this one.
Maybe it was an electric model? It seems to me that the girl from Sugar Rush achieved personal happiness this way.
I wouldn’t have remembered the TED talk if you hadn’t mentioned moaning.
You guys can’t even keep oral hygiene clean!