Teeth

I don't know a single person who likes going to the dentist. And don't give me that "dentist fresh feeling" crap. That's gum, not the actual dentist. The dentist is about discomfort, vulnerability, and a woman who asks you questions while your mouth is full of her double-gloved fingers. It's about the sucker thing and the scraper thing and deciding whether you want toothpaste flavored with orange, bubblegum, or chocolate.

When I was ten I picked chocolate. Stupid, stupid.

I hate the dentist so much that I skipped it for five years after college. Then I went and had no cavities. So why ever go again?

I'm going on Tuesday for the first time in 18 months. I told the receptionist, "If you people aren't nice and gentle with me, I might never come back again." She laughed, but I couldn't tell if it was maniacal or if she thought I was cute. But I am dreading it like you might dread a punch in the face if you knew it was coming. The superball I will demand to choose out of the toy bucket will in no way make up for that 45 minutes of hell.

Ahh. Thanks for reading. You see, I can't rant like that to the pregnant lady. I tried the other day, and she was like, "Are you even trying to COMPARE the dentist with passing a human being out of your [edited]?! I hope she scrapes the f[edited] s[edited] out of you and you sit there and bleed!"

We had been watching Scrubs, so then she got all Dr. Cox on me.

"But--"

"Listen Sally Sue, I don't care if they run out of scrapers and instead use a rusty tent stake and your hygienist has a seizure and impales your epiglottis. I re-he-heally don't think it compares to childbirth. Now hitch up your skirt and pretend like you have a pair!"

Okay, she didn't really say that. But her eyes were thinking it.