Gums don't lie
Despite going to the dentist every six months, my regularly scheduled cleaning feels anything but routine. My petite hygienist entered my mouth, scraping at enamel with a miniature pick ax and hitting wellsprings of blood in my bubbly gums. This part's uncomfortable, but flossing is when the dribble hits the fan. Blood splatters on my bib as my eyes bulge. She just has to know that this isn't a thing that happens before I go to bed every night.
After 15 minutes in the coal mine, my hygenist came up for air and popped the question: “Do you floss regularly?” I sucked it up (my pride and blood), told her "not really," and asked if she could tell. She said "yes."
When I asked how, she told me it was obvious. My gums swell up like like Violet Beauregarde and bleed like a severed artery. That's not to mention the abundance of plaque, which is hard to miss because, if commercials are to be believed, they look like green boogers with angry faces.