American Dentata
by awindram
[tweetmeme source=”awindram” only_single=false] I like to blame my fear of all things dentistry on Martin Amis, but the real root of my terror goes back further than when I first read Experience. The dentist I went to as a child was located in a Victorian terrace which had been converted into a practice. What must have once been a gloomy living room where the family of the house had sat in sullen silence had now become a gloomy waiting room where the patients of the current occupant sat on musty couches until called for their appointment. When it was finally your turn you would make your way up a staircase just off from the waiting room; a staircase that always seemed too steep, too narrow, and too dark. There at the top of the stairs were three rooms; two always had their doors shut, but the third would always be open. This was the examination room; no threadbare carpet or peeling plaster here. The smell of must from downstairs replaced with the sweet smell of eugenol. Clean and white with foreboding looking machinery, the centrepiece being that chair, it all felt futuristic and at odds with the rest of the house, and to my imagination it was as if I had stepped through the wardrobe or into the TARDIS. I was in the unknown.
Not so now; there is no peeling plaster, musty smells or dark Gormenghast shadows to navigate at my current dentist’s. I am in a box within a box; that is, like nearly every business in this part of California the practice is to be found in a strip mall and the examination room is in a perfectly square room that reminds me of the prefab annexes I was sometimes taught in at Secondary school. My mouth is in the painful process of being “Americanized”. A molar is ground down in order to be crowned and slowly a childhood’s worth of NHS fillings, the colour of slate, will be extracted and the teeth will be capped gleaming white.
Bereft of a crumbling Victorian house my nightmarish fears of the dentist may have gone, but they have simply been replaced with a fear of humiliation and mockery. Opening my mouth in a dental surgery here I feel self-conscious. When my dentist starts scraping around in there I feel a whole nation’s health system being judged rather than my own poor choices. British teeth and their perceived awfulness have become an established American comic meme popularized by The Simpsons and personified by Mike Myer’s Austin Powers. It’s always good for a cheap laugh even if research suggests British children, in fact, have healthier teeth than their American counterparts. Still, it’s always hard arguing against such an entrenched stereotype. When I open my still predominantly British mouth (it’s only partly been Americanized, the vowels and consonants it forms are still resolutely British) it seems to inspire American dentists to grandiose plans of what they should do with it – rip out those British pegs and start from scratch in crafting me an all-American smile. It’s my understanding that a teeth whitening course is a compulsory part of the American citizenship test. Vodpod videos no longer available.
What a wonderful account from the patient’s point of view. I do hope the American dentist leaves a little vestige of the old faithful British NHS dental system in your mouth for “old time” sake!! I once went to a dental seminar in the UK run by a very well known AMerican aesthetic dentist who openening speech was simply repeating multiple times how shocked he was at the fact the British dentists don’t take advantage of the fact that there is so much untapped work in the UK! Hope you guys are well. Loving the blog x
Hi Emilie,
Great to hear from you. Hope all’s well.
Yes, I think we should keep a little vestige of the NHS in my mouth. I can be like one of those old soldier that boasts about the small piece of shrapnel he still has. 😉
You keep those vowels my dear. Don’t you give up that ‘cute Bridish accent’ for anyone….
Ha, if anything my accent is getting stronger. Sometimesit seems easier to play up the accent to be understood around here. I swear I’m starting to sound like Derek Nimmo.
As you know, I spent many years living in the UK and Japan, neither of whose populations is known for having great teeth. Perhaps out of sympathy for the people I met, my teeth became crooked again during that time (I’d had braces as a kid).
When I finally repatriated to the United States, this was one of my biggest hang-ups: could I fit back in to the Land of Straight Teeth with my newly crooked teeth?
In the end, I bit the bullet (pun intended) and headed to the orthodontist. He talked me into getting braces again–said that lots of adults were doing it. It was no more fun the second time around than it was the first, but hey, my teeth are straight again! And if that isn’t an expression of recommitment to this country, I don’t know what is …
So I suppose teeth (or more specifically the perceived bad quality of them) can be another thing to add to the list of qualities that Japan and Britain have in common. I do sometimes find the American ideal re: teeth a little odd and unnatural looking. If they’re too white and glistening it just seems to make them look unnatural. For the most part, I don’t really notice much of a difference at all between the gnashers of the average American and average Brit.
[…] American Dentata – A Brit getting American dental work done, which inspires hurt national feelings and Hulu of The Big Book of British Smiles. […]
Let’s not forget Mr ________’s penchant for the open shirt on a hot day. SEX.
I think that just might be for you.
Over the years, different American dentists have remarked that my teeth are really good. ‘Considering you’re British.’
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