Cheeeeese!!!!

Warning: this - is not a posting on this type of 'food prepared from the pressed curd of milk, often seasoned and aged' (dry dictionary definition. My words would be more along the lines of:
'the best thing ever created by man since the beginning of times, so good in fact that it might be the only and ultimate evidence that there is a good-natured supreme being above us. And she is female'. But then again I am not paid to write entries in the American Heritage® Dictionary, or any other one for that matter...)

I have to say that it would be damn tempting. And interesting. Appetizing. Drool-inducing. And probably too much to handle for someone who is on a good pace to lose a fraction of the pounds she gained over the last 3 years of couple food debauchery.
(The cover of the RedEye read last week: "My boyfriend makes me fat". I wanted to kiss that girl for sharing my misery.)
Truth is - I absolutely adore cheese. All of them. At all temperatures, with anything, any day of the year. It took me a little while to become an addict but once I started there was no going back. I even learned to master - at the venerable age of 9 - the stinky Munster of my home region (which has nothing to do with its American homophone) by eating it while plugging my nose. Patented technique that I would recommend to anyone planning a trip to the Vosges.

Anyway - cheese has been the longest love story of my life. Well - with chocolate and pasta. Imagine the desolation that washed over me the first time I stopped in front of the cheese aisle in a supermarket lost in the middle of the Connecticut forest. Big Y, Mansfield Road. My heart must have skipped a few beats, and color leave my face.
If one day I am not to live in a city anymore, I want my own herd of cows, goats and sheep and produce my own fix.
No other way.

But I am digressing since I said that cheese was not the subject of the day.
Teeth are.
Yeah....cheese....smile....you know...
Cheesy, I know.

I am going to the dentist next week. Nothing major - just a cleaning, probably a little cavity to fix. And the dreaded discourse on my gums.
See - my gums are not in the best shape of their life. They are getting old, bloody at times and tired of supporting their alloted pieces of enamel. Gingivitis runs in the family, what can I say. My mom had to have her teeth pulled out a couple of years ago - good, strong and healthy teeth. Lots of tears of frustration and shame. You see the picture.
All this because we French don't believe in floss.
I had never flossed up until 3 years ago. We never talk about it. It's not taboo - no, you DO find floss in pharmacies all over the country - but it never crosses anybody mind to actually buy the thing, let alone USE it. Must be for tourists. Even dentists discourage you from doing so.
"Don't do this, it's bad for your gums" I was told one day, staring at the ceiling and trying not to choke on the latex fingers tickling the bottom of my throat.
Oh cool, I thought at the time. One less thing to worry about.

The first time I went to a hygienist in Chicago I got a horrified reaction as soon as I opened my mouth. Talk about a boost of self-confidence, huh. I have always known that I was not blessed with a blinding Hollywood smile, but still...come on...
She almost fainted when I told her my floss history.
I left her office with a couple of toothbrushes, toothpaste, Listerine and about 5000 yards of menthol floss.

So now of course, I do it. Not as religiously as natives because I am not good at picking up new habits (um-umm). Maybe it's because I want to remain true to my homeland where people are supposedly dirty,stinky and just overall disgusting. Or is it because I am just a little bit lazy ?
The truth is - I will never be a true American gal with nice, pearly, perfectly aligned toothies despite 3 years of braces and a pretty good dental hygiene. That's how you can spot me in the crowd: bottom teeth slightly crooked and overlapping, enamel more beige than white and a lot of gum showing when I am flashing you a big smile. That's me, Aurore the French with her imperfect teeth, always somewhat self-conscious around her more perfect-toothed friends but who learned to live with it as she did with the rest of her flaws.

I postponed my appointment three times already.
No more pushing back.
Time to be a big girl and lay on the chair.
I'll keep you updated.