i only go twice a year, but it seems the older i get, the more i dread it.
i walk into the office & before i even sit down, i silence my cell phone & don’t dare take it out of my purse as to follow the directions on the laminated sign. i see you, sign. i’m not ignoring you. while i’m sitting in the waiting room, i read gossip magazines like it’s something i do daily. i smile at the kids playing in the corner. i act like a very mature adult. but in reality, reality is i’m hating life.
then they call my name. i smile, acting like this is normal & i’m looking forward to the next 30 minutes.
i’m polite, i answer medical history questions with ease, i try to cause absolutely no ruckus as to not bring attention to myself.
then they start “tool time” as i like to call it. brand-new metal tools fresh outta the plastic bag – which i notice, of course. i notice everything. mainly because I’M FREAKING OUT.
then it begins: the precious time where i’m not able to talk or defend my teeth, while people poke & scrap & JUDGE.
they can’t help themselves. and i can’t help but wait for their judgement.
i turn into a very codependent person at the dentist. more than i already am [let’s be real]. i crave approval about my teeth. it’s like the adult-version of getting my report card.
i don’t like the person i become in that dentist office. i stare at the light above my head & start thinking about all my cavity-free years & i envy those days.
i literally sat there today & started panicking about the next twenty years. it was so overwhelming. i started making new year’s resolutions right there in that chair. i vowed to myself to brush my teeth four times a day & floss after every meal & even BEFORE every meal. i vowed to use mouth wash for five minutes straight, even if it starts to burn & i start to choke. my teeth are at the top of my priority list . . . at least for those daunting 30 minutes.
am i the only one? all i want is a good dentist report card. i want these strangers to approve of my pearly whites.
today’s report card : A+
luckily, i won’t have to endure this dentist-induced anxiety for another six months.
until then, i shall now google what the heck plaque is & how i can avoid it . . .
i don’t hate life anymore, ps btw.