Dental Dominion: You know you are a DENTAL STUDENT when. . .

Monday 31 October 2011

Your idea of a nightmare involves your teeth falling out. Dreams about ghosts or getting shot are soo overrated.
You can’t help it when your gaze inadvertently drops about 3 inches south of a person’s eyes when you speak to them, even though you know it makes people feel uncomfortable, like how talking to a totally random person who just happens to be a psychologist makes you paranoid that they’re psychoanalyzing you.
It’s even worse if said person has chipped/crooked/crowded/stained/restored teeth because all you can think about is how much nicer they’d look if they got a nice set of veneers.
You’ve gotten really good at applying liquid eyeliner and eye makeup in general because hours upon hours of drilling teeth has taught you how to have a super steady hand.
You used to freak out whenever your clinical instructor would tell you to drill 0.5 mm deeper. Now you’ve gotten so used to itty-bitty measurements that 1 mm might as well be a kilometer long in your book.
You pass the time at boring dinner parties and social functions by analyzing what type of occlusion everyone has…and how best to fix it.

24/7 has taken on a whole new meaning now, because with your 7-day schedule you find yourself spending more time at the university clinic than you do at your own home.
You get a serious guilt-trip if you go to bed without brushing your teeth.
Which is why, no matter how tired you are, you’ve gotta run that brush over those teeth at least a few times.
You used to think you had a pretty nice set of teeth, until you learned about malocclusion in orthodontics II and discovered the crossbite on your left upper second premolar.
Dental school has stressed you out so much that you’ve developed nocturnal bruxism. (Bye-bye cusps, hello attrition.)
You have tiny cuts, scabs, and burns scattered all over your fingers from all the little accidents you’ve had in the lab.
You don’t flinch at the sight of gingival hyperplasia anymore, although once upon a time it used to make you want to hurl.
You wouldn’t touch sodas or sugary drinks with a 10-foot pole.
(But that doesn’t mean that chocolate is banned. Chocolate would never be banned in your book, even if you were a raging diabetic.)
When stuck in traffic, you find yourself glancing over at a neighboring driver’s profile just to analyze what type of Angel Class they are.
When you see a person with a perfect set of teeth, you can’t help but wonder if it’s natural or the result of some really flawless crowns.
To you, teeth is the equivalent of dental porn.