Yesterday, I went to the dentist. After an uncomfortable (ie painful) session with the hygienist, it was the dentist's turn.
After he'd done his bit, I asked - just asked - about tooth-whitening. On holiday, we met lots of people from the US and Australia, with gleaming porcelain smiles; so ubiquitous were they that after a while, I felt quite embarassed about the state of my own teeth, and started mumbling through half-closed lips so no-one should see them. So I thought I'd just ask. I didn't want porcelain, I told him; just, well, just a bit whiter?
Dentist got out a little row of plastic teeth, arranged according to colour like a Dulux chart, but without the fancy names. Then he pointed to one near the Bad End. "That's yours", he said. "Yellowy grey"? My teeth are yellows grey? It would seem that all that red wine has come home to roost. I tottered home in a state of shock.
But when I looked at them afterwards, they didn't look that bad. Not really. And whitening's very expensive. And (as dentist helpfully pointed out) doesn't last. And, said he, works better if you're young.
Well, that's me told. So I think I'll stay as I am. For the time being.
