Sir Drills-a-lot


Another day, another visit to the dentist.  This should be one of my last steps in this whole long-awaited process of fixing the devastation that is my mouth.  I have severe anxiety around dentist visits.

This morning, I am trying to keep my brain from thinking about teeth…and then Lovely #1 pops down from her bedroom saying her loose tooth finally fell out.  Great.  All things teeth today, I suppose.  She lost one of the middle ones on the bottom.  It’s just this tiny little piece of tooth.  It’s weird that we grow new bigger teeth as we grow older.

I’ve got about 45 minutes to kill until we have to head out to see the very nice dentist that I despise.  Doesn’t it kind of stink that you could be a very nice person, but because of the nature of your job, people totally dislike you?  Like a cop or personal trainer or something.  Not that I dislike cops, I just don’t think I ever need to be pulled over.  And my friends have told me that their personal trainers make them do awful things for the name of being in shape.

Yes, the profession that I choose that I despise just because, is dentistry.  Hate them.  And I hate that sassy assistant that always calls me hun and sweetie.  Because we’re like the same age.  Don’t call me hun, bitch!  And get that spit sucker off my tongue!!

Aw geez, last time I had an appointment, I cancelled it because I had a nightmare about it.  I am not so lucky this time…

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