At the beginning of the pandemic, I panic-bought floss.
As I dodged, ducked, dipped, dived and dodged throughout the aisles in Woolies, judgement cloudy, I hurled the floss packet into my basket. ‘Hey, you might need this,’ I told myself, amid a sea of people hurling toilet paper into their trollies.
Flossing is obviously a very good thing to do, but I hadn’t done it in fucking ages. So, as I drove out of the carpark, I attempted to rationalise my very out-of-character purchase. ‘There’s literally no greater time in the world to start flossing than now,’ I lectured telling myself. ‘You will capitalise on all this extra time brought on by the pandemic, and you will establish a regular flossing routine.’
Needless to say, the packet of floss sat there, unopened, in my bathroom cabinet for one week. Two weeks. Three weeks. Just nonchalantly perched beside my toothpaste. Taunting me.
I just couldn’t bring myself to start flossing. The thought of doing it hurt my soul.
There are a couple of reasons for this visceral hurt. Firstly, I think I have some childhood trauma from having braces – twice – and spending what seemed like hours a night flossing. I remember it taking so much time. And I’m lazy. Additionally, whenever I floss, I feel like it signals the end of eating for the day. And, as someone who’s prone to a good nighttime snack or 4, I just couldn’t commit.
Excuses aside, the unopened packet of floss sat there, gathering dust, for weeks.
And then I did it.
A couple nights back, before bed, I mustered up the courage to do the damn deed. I took a deep breath, swallowed my pride, and started seesawing the satanic strings between my teeth.
It took so long – I have a wire behind my bottom set of teeth, so that just made things so much harder – but I did feel great afterwards, I must admit. Triumphant, even.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I even swore to continue this flossing pattern, but, by the next day, I’d fallen back into my old, lazy habits. Curse my stubborn nature and deeply ingrained hatred of flossing.
I just can’t understand how people have the time and patience to religiously floss. I simply cannot.
So, to people who floss regularly (I’m not talking about once a week, but nearly every night), hi, how are you? Firstly, I repent for being a lowly, dirty Gen Z who can’t be bothered to floss. Secondly, why do you do what you do? Actually, I know why, but more so how? How do you do what do?
How do you remain so diligent and unwavering in your flossing endeavours? Does this dental discipline manifest in every other facet of your life? Do you fold shit tickets, and not scrunch? Do you iron your sheets? Do you pack it in after 3 drinks at the bar?
You are fascinating beings. Incomprehensible, yes, but fascinating nonetheless.
