Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Deep Relaxation Techniques

I have an effective relaxation technique that works really well in extremely stressful situations like when I have to get a root canal, or have my blood drawn, or whenever I have to visit my mother-in-law.

A few days ago, I went to see visit my dentist to get my teeth cleaned and get some dental work done. I had noticed that in the past month or so, I woke up grinding my teeth and I am at a loss to explain why. Very likely, my previous dental work have shifted, or at least I hoped so, because I’d hate to think that I was grinding my teeth because of the window treatments my boyfriend installed without asking me. We agreed that for major life decisions like this we would always consult each other.

But until I developed this relaxation technique, I always dreaded going to the dentist.

When I was growing up, my mother took us to Chinatown to see Dr. Wong, who is this old, grizzly dentist with yellow teeth, sparse eyelashes and a mole on his chin that had a few thick long black hairs that grew out of it. His office was very dusty and grey. Old Chinese newspapers were stacked in the corner and white rings were permanently etched on the worn and faded coffee table, no coasters in sight.

That waiting room was definitely not designed to be conducive for relaxation. I mean, how can you when there aren’t any fashion or entertainment magazines to read in sight? Couldn't he have at least put in an old Mirabella, that mainstay of dental offices, in there? Plus, in his office, along with his dental implements, he had a pair of long-nosed pliers and a mallet. That didn’t really inspire ease in a patient, especially since he didn’t seem the type to play croquet. And I kept thinking of those rings on the coffee table. If he didn’t care about his coffee table, my teeth were doomed.

I told myself then and there, that when I grew up, I would find a modern dentist who used the latest techniques, the latest equipment and had the latest magazines in his waiting room. No more freakin Mirabella.

My current dentist, Dr. Murray, had a tasteful waiting room in the fashionable Lincoln Square neighborhood in Chicago, had flat screen TVs installed and used dental implements sealed in plastic to insure sanitation. Dr. Murray inspired confidence in his professional appearance, his carefully swept hair and his wolfish grin.

However, until I was able to choose my own dentist, until Dr. Murray, I had to perfect my deep relaxation technique which I used in stressful situations. It involved clearing your mind of all thought, regulating your breathing and then imagining having sex with the person inflicting the stress.

Perfecting this deep relaxation technique takes time. You would think that it was easy imagining having sex with a stranger--ok it is, he is a dentist after all, and if he was also single, my mother would have already married me off to him. And if he wasn't single, then let's just say that my mom knows which setting to use on a chainsaw that inflicts the most damage on his wife.

But, I am old school in the sense that I can't really imagine having sex with someone until I have taken the time to at least get to know them a little bit by possibly calling their house a few times and then abruptly hanging up. But trust me when I say that this gets easier. It does, even when you do get served with a restraining order.

But you know how almost intimate it feels when a dentist is working on your teeth, their hands on your face, in your mouth, their face dangerously close to you that if you even just pucker your lips, your lips could accidentally touch? How if you peer into your dentist's eyes, you could almost see a reflection of yourself? It's easy enough to imagine him without the rubber gloves, the protective eyewear, or his white dentist shirt with his name Dr. Murray, DDS, sewn in italics, over one pocket. Easy enough to imagine him naked, on his knees, offering you a 2-carat engagement ring. What? I won’t be a cheap slut, even in my imagination, unless you pay me $50 first.

When your faces are that close, it's easier to ignore the actual physical realities of your dentist. You could focus on their eyes, the bridge of their nose and imagine the rest of him to your desires.

For me, I have even perfected this technique such that it works even on the petite, blond, female dental hygienist that works for Dr. Murray. I focus on her pretty blue eyes and imagine her thick beercan cock rubbing against me as she polishes my teeth, and then I am relaxed as can be.

I just wish I had perfected this skill when I was younger so that I could've avoided all that dread and fear that I had at old Dr. Wong's dusty office. I would've been relaxed, calm, even as the long black hairs on Dr. Wong's mole brushed against my face as he worked on my young, innocent teeth...


Let's Get [a] Physical - My once a year hypochondria and addiction to a poke in the rear.

The Model Minority - Old Chinese dentists aside, Asians are the Next Top Model Minority.

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