Are you stressed? Worn out? Astonished by the enormous number of mothers who have dropped out of the workforce in the last year since the coronavirus lockdowns began?
It sounds like you could use a restful vacation to cleanse your soul and replenish your maternal energy.
But I don’t have that kind of time, your monkey mind tells you. I’ve got to scan Piper’s distance learning worksheets, make sure Edie isn’t watching TikTok instead of being in “class,” and collate tomorrow’s math assignments.
Well, stress no more because we have news for you: all your troubles will drift away when you sit down in our adjustable, cushioned, hydraulic-motor examination chair.
Let your body recline and sink into the plush upholstery as a trained and skilled hygienist named Tara gently applies pressure to the electronic foot control, generating a soothing buzz that calms your nerves and drowns out the sound of Piper and Edie fighting in the waiting room.
What are they fighting over? It doesn’t matter, because as your chair rises, a sense of well-being permeates your entire body. Once your mouth is pried open, you lose yourself in pleasure and banish whatever thoughts don’t serve you, including the knowledge that the Virtual Science Fair starts next week and that you forgot to buy food coloring and a graduated pipette.
This is just the beginning of your indulgent journey, for soon Tara is asking you a few simple questions about your flossing habits and whether or not you’ve experienced any recent gum bleeding. Shhhh. You don’t even have to exert the energy to speak, because you can’t.
Just a grunt or a languid hand gesture is all you need to communicate, while a jet stream of tepid water washes over your entire mouth cavity, inundating it with hydrating goodness. If that wasn’t sufficiently healing, a water-saliva cocktail seeps out and dribbles down your chin. No! Don’t wipe it away. This is your zone to relax, Queen. Just let it all go.
This regenerating dentist’s chair combines a unique combination of olfactory and auditory sensations to draw out toxins and enhance your state of bliss. Once you hear the put-put of the saliva ejector, you won’t even notice the Candy Crush jingle sound effect, which means your kids have snuck a device into their waiting room activity bag. This marks their ninth hour of screen time today.
Still, not being able to intervene induces a profound sense of contentment and equanimity. You can’t do one single thing in this dentist’s chair except sit, and it’s the most relaxing feeling you’ve had in 331 days.
Surrender to the now, for nothing exists inside this laboratory-like cocoon except you, this restorative 45-minute cleaning, and the confusing story Tara is telling you about her mother-in-law.
As you begin to feel at one with the universe, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy by Sarah McLachlan plays over the sound system and lulls you into a space of total peace. You inhabit your body fully, an experience as vibrant as the tin flavor taste of blood-infused saliva that’s slowly filling your mouth.
You are embraced by stillness and serenity. You can’t even remember the events that seemed so stressful just an hour earlier when the scanner broke. In your halcyon void, your body sinks completely into this dentist’s chair, which is doing all the heavy lifting for you, and you sure deserve this, lady. Well done for treating yourself!
Refreshed, renewed, and rejuvenated, you hear Edie sobbing in the waiting room but remain motionless that extra 30 seconds, until Tara removes your bib, gives you a new toothbrush, free sample of Cara Cara Orange Cocofloss, and reminds you that it’s time to get up and out of this dentist’s chair.
Recommendation: One treatment, two times a year.
Source: Ever so slightly edited from: McSweeney’s Internet Tendency