I didn’t have a good day today. Let’s just establish that fact right away.

Dentists are some of my least favorite people for many reasons.

1. Their overly-proud smiles of perfectly straight and white teeth. Just close your mouth. Please. Actually, this leads nicely into —

2. Their attempts at conversation. Look, I hate going to the dentist. When I am in that chair all I’m thinking about is how long it will be until I’m OUT of the chair. The last thing I want to do is have a conversation about what baby name is most popular this year, or how funny it is that my dad is an engineer and I hate math (actual topics brought up today whilst in chair). I don’t want to have to stop the whole process and answer a question. Talk with your assistant, sure…but leave me out of it. Get the job done, PLEASE.

3. The waiting…accompanied by *the sounds*. Seriously, could anything SOUND MORE SCARY? Whirring and buzzing and drilling and sucking — UGH. Way to set me at ease. And it doesn’t help that you always have —

4. The elevator music in the lobby. Enough said.

5. Then last, AND WORST, the comments on my appearance. I’ve gone to the same dentist pretty much my whole life, and nothing gives him more satisfaction than proving that he remembers each and every one of his patients. For the past five or so times I’ve been there he’s said things like “you are just growing up SO FAST”. And then there’s always that subtle hint that he remembers I’m “a homeschooler”.

But today, it was worse. Today, I stepped up to get my check-up and the dentist asked “Now how old are you?”. (side note: Now ALWAYS equals patronizing. Don’t try to defend it. It does.)
“Eighteen” I replied evenly. I know what’s coming.
“Now you’re kidding me. You look SO MUCH YOUNGER! Look at me again”
I turn to him, trying to peel the scowl off my face.
“No, I would have guessed much younger! Cathy, doesn’t she look younger than she is?”
“Let me see! OH my word, you do sweetheart! I would have never guessed you were 18.”
“You look like you’re still in high school! In fact, I thought you were about 15.”
This went on…and on. Even at the end of the appointment the receptionist said “I would have NEVER thought you were 18.” Lest you think I’m exaggerating to make a point, let me assure you that EACH AND EVERY ONE of the quotes I just wrote WERE SPOKEN ALOUD.
Let me ask a question I’ve asked several times in this blog. HOW the HECK am I expected to react to comments like this? Do people not understand that I’m dying to respond with “You know what, thanks. I really wanted to appear immature, uncoordinated and awkward. It’s great that you thought I didn’t look like an adult! I also love it when you point that out to my face. Repeatedly!” Because I would. Maybe. Instead I usually give a dry “Thanks.” and immediately get the response of:
“Oh, honey, you’ll LOVE to hear that when you’re my age.”
“Yes, when I’m old and decrepit like you, I would like to hear that. At the moment, however, I don’t want to be considered a child…” You get the picture.

To add insult to injury (or maybe that should be ‘to add injury to insult’?) I was told I have three cavities that need to be filled, and within the next couple of years I’ll have three more.

Fantastic.

To be honest, at that point, I just wanted to go home and cry. Getting cavities seems to equal a shocking moral failure to some people. … and I guess I’m one of those people. I feel like I’m being judged for not being responsible, or something like that. Forgive me for not trying to be eloquent there…I don’t have the motivation.

No, right now I just want to curl up with a peperoni pizza, a big bowl of popcorn and about five episodes of Project Runway. The ultimate pity party. Chocolate milk sounds pretty good too.

Whatever, I’ll get over this. It’s not the end of the world. I’m just not looking forward to the stupid conversations, drilling, filling, and numbness that will be my next Thursday.

The only thing that gets me through things like that is knowing that it WILL be over. It doesn’t last forever. 1hr and 15min is something I can get through. And then it will be done, and I’ll never have to do it again. At least that’s what I tell myself. This time it’s going to be a little bit different —

Dentist: with an over-sympathetic smile “Yes it’s too late, you’ll have to have those three filled eventually as well.”

No one should get that much joy over spreading anti-Christmas cheer. Because cavities are the opposite of Christmas cheer.

Ok this is getting ridiculous. I’ve got to go eat something :P

…lindy

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