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Drill, Baby, Drill!

scary dentist

No, this post is not about oil or even about that idiot Sarah Palin. Sorry for the disappointment

If you haven’t already guessed it by the image above, this post is about the trip that everyone dreads, the dentist. I have heard women would rather go have a complete stranger examine their who-ha then go get their teeth checked. Okay, maybe I’m alone on this one but I find the dentist rather delightful really.

When I was a child, my mother didn’t push dental hygiene as strongly as she should have. I would go days without brushing and I have never even flossed until about a year ago, nasty I know. But surprisingly, I have never had a cavity and every time I got checked out the results were always the same, other than needing braces, I was healthy. UNTIL! Until after I had my mini me. Yeah, this really ticked me off. First, I get stretch marks then I have a human crawl its way out of my vagina and then this man, in tight but strangely attractive scrubs, tells me I must have eight teeth that needs to be drilled. Once I hit my teens, I stopped being such a skank and took real good care of my teeth but evidently it wasn’t enough.  I wasn’t too scared, I mean hell, I went through childbirth like a freaking champ, I could definitely take this.

I figured I could suck it up and knock all eight out with one miserable trip. Oh no, they informed me that it would have to be in four different trips, so I reluctantly scheduled my first appointment. As I turned to walk away from the receptionist’s counter, the kind lady called out “Ewe, good luck hun.”.

Ewe, good luck? That’s all I thought about on the drive home. Good luck? Was it that big of a deal to get a fill? Did she have little faith in her co-workers abilities? Was that strangely attractive man in the tight scrubs even really a D.M.D? Thank god the drive home is very short or I might have had an anxiety attack.

So, the day of my atrocious appointment came. I started it out as a normal day but my tot decided to add to the hell with being downright difficult. She was fussy, uncooperative, and  doing everything in her power to be…just…bad! Parents, you have probably been there. So needless to say, after that type of morning, I was welcoming my dental rendezvous.

I entered the lobby and sunk into an oversized, leather chair and took a breath. Now normally people would be on edge at this moment.

They called my name and I headed back. Laying back in the chair, listening to Ellen on the TV, and watching the studly dentist dance above me as he chisels my mouth, I was the most relaxed I have been in a long time. He finished and I feel a huge disappointment, I had to go back home.

TIP #7. The dentist is the new spa.

Sadly, I’m just begging for more cavities just to get some dentist time.

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