Agenda: Sugababes; Cariad Lloyd; Andy Murray; restaurant reservations; twerking; flossing
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Middle-class problems: Flossing
By Marianne Levy
The dentist straightens her back and lifts her mask. "You do floss, don't you?"
This is tricky.
The infrastructure is in place, the technique mastered, and I can definitely spare the necessary 17 seconds. Nonetheless, I don't.
"I do, yes."
The dentist narrows her eyes. "That's strange, because your gums are quite inflamed."
I make a noise intended to express unguilty concern. As my mouth is packed with cotton wool, I sound like a dying seagull.
"So," she says, "I recommend that you start… I mean, continue flossing. Twice a day. Now sit up and rinse.'
"Yes," I splutter. "I will very much continue doing that. Thank you."
Of course, I won't. Because, like many of my middle-class contemporaries, I nod and smile as highly trained medical professionals tell me how to help myself, then carry on exactly as I always have. I know the benefit of flossing – having teeth that stay painlessly attached to my jaw – far outweighs the microscopic inconvenience of having to do it.
Yet, as with eating fruit and veg and doing any kind of exercise, somehow my good intentions fail to translate into action. Whole government departments have been set up to nag people like me, hell-bent on destroying our bodies with smug inertia. It's embarrassing, or at least, it would be, if only we'd acknowledge that their advice is in any way personal.
Still, at least I never drink more than 14 units of alcohol a week. And anyone who says otherwise is, um, right.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments