I Have Really Good Teeth? Really??

So two weeks ago I went to the dentist's, the first time in about nine months.  It's a dental school, so the student I got actually didn't finish in the, oh, two-plus hours we had in our time slot.  I have to go back next month, which is kind of weird; you might as well start all over and clean all of my teeth again, right?

Near the end of my visit, a professor/teacher/supervisor came over to check.  These students have to call one over seemingly before or after a stage of care to get the OK that everything is done and they can go on to the next step.  The professor/teacher/supervisor opens up my mouth and sticks his fingers everywhere in it while speaking to the student doing my check-up.

The conversation between the two finally gets around what she did, specifically ordering up x-rays of my mouth because it's been about a year.  I think, if I recall correctly, that she had trouble getting all the x-rays she needed that covered all the teeth in my mouth.  But, she told the prof that everything looked good and, in fact, she is thinking about recommending that these pain-in-the-ass x-rays need be done only every other year, not annually as has traditionally been done ever since I have gone to the dentist's by myself.

The prof agreed.  He says he's been thinking a lot about doing these x-rays (are they called bitewings?) less frequently.  And then he talked about my teeth situation.  He looked at the condition of my teeth, especially the spaces inbetween them, and then he noted my age and said that if there isn't any bad deterioration that has come up lately, and until I radically switch to a diet that acidifies my enamel, my teeth are going to be as, well, good as they are.  And then he said I have good teeth.  Genetically good teeth.

Really?  Seriously?  Because all of my life I have been under the impression that I've had crappy teeth.  I had a lot of cavities when I was young, and I think I had a couple as recently as ... 2019, I believe?  Moreover, my teeth take a beating.  I've had a sugar tooth, mostly through pop and candy, ever since I could walk, and I drink coffee with a lot of creamer every day at work now.  Moreover, and I'll confess this, I don't regularly brush my teeth.  In fact, I am sure I have spent more than half my days living on this temporal plane going to bed without brushing my teeth, let alone brushing them twice a day, which I guess is now the recommended frequency.  But no matter, my God-given chiclets are so sturdy and rock-solid that they can withstand sugary food and the neglect of not brushing away the plaque that I figuratively spackle on them?

I'm ... flabbergasted.  Totally shocked.  Not taking care of my teeth has been a discreet source of embarrassment in my life, and now this expert says not only have I not permanently damaged my teeth, I should be good to go with them for the rest of my life?  Guess I'll take it.  But believing that these teeth are in tremendous shape blows me the hell away.