Fun at the Dentist

I had to go to the dentist today. Joy of my soul.

I have always hated going to the dentist. Like really, really hated it. It smells weird, like all sorts of chemical type things, air freshener and artificial flavors and odors to cover up what lurks beneath. The lights are those horrible off-bright ones that make everyone look bad and put you right to sleep. There are a bunch of hygienists with too big smiles and totally unflattering and much to colorful clothing. Not to mention they poke sharp pointy objects in your mouth. That's never cool.

I had escaped it for a long time. Last time I went was last year. (It was a nice year). But sadly, I couldn't put it off any longer.

So, I had to go. That's bad enough, right? Nope. Had to get worse. My Mother made the appointment for 9:00. In the morning. And it's still summer. Either she doesn't know me at all or she is just cruel. I drag my sorry self out of bed at 7:00 (no easy task), and try to make myself look presentable while half asleep, and then I get in the car and we drive to the dentist.

First you fill out a mess of paper work. Why do they need to know all this stuff anyway? Is it bad that I have no idea how to answer half of this? They are gonna know more about me than I know about myself by the time this is filled out. My personal favorite question: "How do you feel about your teeth?" Um... I dunno about you, but I really don't have that strong of feelings towards my teeth. They work, so they're alright with me. I was tempted to be really cheeky on that one, but I was only kind of cheeky. Scout's honor. Which actually means nothing to me as I have never been a scout of any kind.

Then we sit in the waiting room for a bit (that's a world of fun all it's own). They have no good magazines. Come on, people. If you are gonna make me wait to rip my mouth apart, you may as well have the decency to distract me from my impending doom. Alas, I was stuck reading People. (Ali, that little bachelorette chick is getting married and Lindsay Lohan is in rehab. What else is new?)

And then from out of no where one of those ladies in unflattering and painfully colorful clothing appears in the doorway and calls out my name with that voice that states something and asks a question all at the same time. I abandon People and follow her into the Twisted Hallways of the Dentist's. To her credit, she wasn't nauseatingly perky, more like pleasant. She also didn't babble on endlessly and ask me every question under the sun about school and what I like to do, while instructing me to open up nice and wide. I am sorry, that is just plain stupid. Either you ask me a question or you tell me to do something. How the heck am I supposed to answer you without moving my tongue or jaw? I would love to see you try that, ma'am.

I'll spare you the boring details of x-rays, the poky stick things that they use to scrape your teeth (those make a horrible sound, don't they? Ick.), the thing that sucks your spit (so charming), the brush that whines and complains loudly in a shrill voice while it brushes your teeth (I would complain if you stuck me in someone's mouth too) and that amazing foamy fluoride stuff (minty...). I am assuming you have been to the dentist before. Poor thing. In the end, I walked out of there informed that I had not one, not two but four cavities making a happy home inside my mouth. You would think I had never brushed my teeth before. Which, I assure you, I have.

Maybe this is why I hate the dentist. I have a horrific dental history. These are by no means my first four cavities, although I sincerely hope they will be my last.

Despite that depressing news and another impending visit to the dentist, I also learned I only have one wisdom tooth and can just leave it happily somewhere in my head. I'll take four cavities if I don't have to have oral surgery... I guess. I'd rather have neither, but that would be a little too perfect, right?

Hopefully next time they'll actually have an interesting magazine.