The dentist... Okay how many of you truly screamed in fear when you read those two little words? I know you did, you can be honest with me. Well, the dentist is not the person at the top of my invite list to any function. He's not even on my invite list. So guess who had a little party today at the dentist's office?
True it was a freak-out party and I was the only partier, but he was there nonetheless. I've had many things done to my teeth before now and this is before I've even had braces or wisdom teeth yanked out or any other hideous tormenting things they enjoy doing. I truly don't mind dentists as individual people (not that I've ever met one out of the office), but as soon as the mask goes up over his nose, I start shaking.
Okay the shaking is a direct result of the epinephrine they shoot into you, but still... bear with me here. The gag reflex, the sounds of Nascar eminating from within my mouth (vroom vroom-- I could just hear the pit crew exchanging old tires for new this morning), the smells and tastes of whatever metal they use to "fix" your teeth... the list goes on.
I went back to work today after my "party" and began singing a timeless song, "Woe is me..." Fortunately, nobody could hear my unfortunate singing.
Poor widdle teefies...