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I have had needles stabbed in my spine. I have had abdominal surgery to remove a cyst that was the size of a large orange. I have had a metal prosthesis implanted in my spine. I have given birth, but none of these. NONE of these generate the intense fear that I get when I have to go to the dentist.
First of all, you get there and they make you sit in their very luxurious waiting room to soak in the soothing ambiance they create for you. It kind of makes you feel like you’re sitting at a really expensive spa waiting to be pampered and you forget for a short while that you are totally pissed that you have to be there on your day off. You start to sink into the leather chair when you start to hear the drills and the chainsaws and the jack hammers coming from the rooms down the hall. Are they renovating the office?
They’re renovating the shat out of someones mouth and you’re next.
So you get back there. The hygienist straps you in. She starts to pick, scrapes, and chisels away at 9 months worth of food shards cemented on your teeth while asking you questions. Not just any questions. Questions that invoke more than a yes and no response like “How do bake your apple pie” or “What’s the meaning of life”. The sad part is, you always try your best to respond with a mouthful of fist and tools all the while thinking that you’re making a complete ass of yourself because there is no way she’s going to understand what you’re saying. But the thing is…
They do understand. Every word.
You can read more of this post at All Work And No Play Makes Mommy Go Something Something.