the hygienist doesn’t like watermelon

I’ve gone to the dentist since I was old enough to hide under the waiting room tables.  My mom was determined to make sure we all had healthy pearly whites…so every six months for as long as I can remember I’ve had a mandatory trip to the dentist.  I’ve been going to the same place since I was three…so everyone knows me.  Actually, my entire family goes there… but we’re all on different schedules… so whenever I go I end up answering questions based on what my mom or dad or brothers said I was doing at the present time during their appointment.  It tends to make for interesting conversation. 

Yesterday was my bi-annual checkup and the first question I was asked by my hygienist was “How was your trip?  Immediately I am confused.  What trip?  Tim I had gone to Gatlinburg, Paris and Knoxville since my last visit and I had no idea what a family member had discussed with her on a previous visit.  My brain is frantically going through various sets of questions to try and narrow down the possibilities and finally I figure out she’s talking about the Gatlinburg trip…so I tell her.  We went for our one year anniversary and we didn’t much care for the town…too many neon lights…but we loved the Smoky Mountains.

At some point the conversation turns to not liking certain foods.  I still cannot recall how we ended up on the topic… and I will never understand why you have to be conversational when your mouth is never really “available” to speak.  You try to say, louder than normal because of the effort required to speak whilst holding your mouth open, “Yes, I like apples” and they hear “Yes, I like assholes”  and look at you like “What?!  How does that relate, even slightly, to my question?”  Then you’re stuck trying to explain the reason you’re blurting out swear words is because you could not announciate correctly due to the location of a water-spraying thing in one side of your mouth and a metal instrument in the other.  So sorry.  Next time, don’t ask.

We finished all the pleasantries and I took a seat in the chair, ready for my cleaning.  After a moment of sitting calmly and her readying the utensils to probe my mouth…somehow we get on the subject of being “texture” people and not liking certain foods based on how it feels in your mouth.

Debbie (hygienist): “I am not adventurous with food.  My husbands eats anything but not me.”

Me: “I’m a texture person.  If it feels weird in my mouth, I won’t eat it.”

Debbie: “Me too!  I don’t like watermelon.  It feels like sand in my mouth.”

Um….say again?

I almost  started choking on the saliva pooling in my mouth.  I’ve heard A LOT of things…but I still cannot get the sand texture and watermelon texture to mix and become one in my pretend mouth…the mouth where I think about how something may taste or feel and then decide if I will like it or not before I put it to my lips.

I barely managed a “um hmm” and had to think about something extremely painful, like getting my arm lopped off, to get my mind away from how funny that struck me.  I think I could have understood “I don’t like watermelon because it feels like wet paper or mushy apples or even soggy crackers (which is a stretch)”…but sand?  Watermelon is like… almost 100% water….and she picked a texture that, even when wet, still feels dry in your mouth.

I’ve got more six months to chew on that one…

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