Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity.
~1 Timothy 4:12

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

How many ways can you think of...

to get out of a dentist appointment? I have my six month check-up today. I expect I'll be no worse for the wear when it's over and done with, but MERCY. I have gone through two c-sections, one with 15 hours of natural labor, had my house broken into while I was in it, and many other things that would knock the fear of God into people but nothing strikes freaked-out fear into me like going to the dentist. At this point, Maury, Tyra, Oprah or Dr. Phil would ask, "Did something happen to you when you were younger that might have caused this fear"? Um, YES. My dentist was pure, unadulterated evil. Ok, maybe not evil, but he was nearly blind, and let's just say everytime he would use the Grim Reaper Tool (that hook looking thing that is most definitely formed from the bowels of Hell) he would miss. HE WOULD MISS. And subsequently get my gum tissue. Awesome. Thanks, Dr. Doom who forever formed my terror of dentists.

So. Six months ago I finally went to the dentist after a VERY long absence. I paid the price too, with needing some dental work that was long overdue. However, Dr.Doom did NOT do the work. I had the most funny, the most gentle, and the cutest little dentist (I can say cute--even if I'm happily married, right)? I didn't allow the use of said Grim Reaper Tool and things went much smoother, even though I did sit there for five and a half hours.

Today is my check-up. Will not do the flouride treatment. Would rather have my eyeballs licked out by kittens. Hate it. Will not allow the Grim Reaper Tool. So what we have here is me, the freaked-out patient who dictates how they're going to do my treatment and the cute Saudi dentist who puts up with me for Lord knows what reason. I've been trying to think up ways for the past few days to get out of it. However, I know what comes from that: those blessed five and a half hours in the chair. Rock on. I guess I'll just put on those gawgeous plastic glasses and lay back and watch Maury while they whittle away with some awful tooth polish flavor at my teeth. Awesome.

0 things to ponder