For me, visiting the dental hygienest is a very Catholic experience. I lie under a drape and confess to the venial sins of inadequate brushing and almost no flossing, and I feel great pangs of guilt. After putting me through some minor uncomfortableness, my uniformed confessor gently chastises me and sends me home to perform the dental equivalent of a dozen Hail Marys.
I leave the office feeling much better.
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