29. Go to the Dentist. The American One.

Shame. And we're not talking about the 2011 film.

Every American who moves to Paris rightfully raves nonstop about the amazing healthcare they're getting over here, but I began to notice that come to a screeching halt when it came to dentists. In all the expat and mommy groups across Facebook and WhatsApp and Instagram, I kept seeing a similar type of request.

Hi! I'm looking for a dentist here who is either American or American-trained. I want someone who will clean my gums until I only spit out red the first couple of times. Thanks!

Hi, moms! Has anyone noticed their kid's dentist is TOO NICE? He didn't push fluoride enough and didn't even talk about flossing. I want someone strict. Someone who will put the fear of hygiene into them. Does anyone know any American dentists?

Need a rec for a dentist who will thoroughly examine my teeth. Just came back from the dentist and said she said everything looked great. LIAR. Please send me your American dentists. I'll also accept Canadian, too.

I think the one thing many of these people are looking for is not an American diploma or American training. But rather: good old fashioned shame.

One of the first times I went to the dentist in Paris, the dentist praised the straightness of my teeth. I was suspicious, but accepted the compliment because I didn't want those three years of orthodontia to be in vain. But then he went on to say I was doing a great job taking care of my teeth and that I had no cavities.

The fucking nerve of that guy. I never went back.

As someone raised Catholic, I recognize a person who is a glutton for shame and guilt. Many Americans searching for a dentist here don't feel like they are being adequately taken care of unless they leave the appointment feeling thoroughly embarrassed and mortified by their oral hygiene habits. 

We recently took our kids to what the moms on Facebook described as a "fun dentist." She came so highly recommended that we were willing to overlook the fact that she was the most expensive dentist we've ever seen in France. It was clear where all that money was going to: an interactive projection of fish in the waiting room, balloons, toys, gold medals, diplomas for every oral hygiene accomplishment you can imagine, and TVs mounted above the patient's chair with child-adapted headphones so they can watch Bluey in peace as they are examined.

The dentist was indeed very nice but also firm with my daughter about why she needed to stop sucking her thumb. She showed her a hyperreal time lapse video of what happens to your teeth and gums if you keep shoving your thumb up there. Then my daughter was awarded a toy, a balloon, a diploma, and a gold medal for successfully completing her appointment.

Meanwhile, my son, who is two, refused to sit in the chair, so three people had to hold him in place, while the dentist attempted to look into his mouth for all of fifteen seconds. She deemed his teeth "perfect," and he, too, got a toy, a balloon, and a gold medal. At the end, we paid €300 for all these gifts.

I liked the dentist, but, like the moms on Facebook, I wondered about her effectiveness and if some straightforward American shame may be in order. I still catch my daughter sucking my thumb, sometimes while she is standing directly in front of her diploma that proudly states she will no longer do so. There's probably a way to handle this that's somewhere between straightforward shame or a Gallic Shrug, but I haven't found it yet. And I don't have another €300 to find out.