Following the aftermath of my recent eye-exam, I’m a little weary of routine check-ups. Translation: I have a dentist appointment tomorrow that I’m a little more than scared about.
Going to the dentist is already bad enough. I mean, who actually enjoys having their teeth cleaned? Having the dentist drill all over your mouth and tell you that you probably should stop drinking so much coffee? Sticking that nasty suction hose in your mouth that sucks out all the moisture so there is no way to wash out the taste of that horrible fruity paste he just stuck all over your gums? Him asking if it hurts while he jams that thin white string of death between your teeth, drawing blood like he’s a ravenous Edward Cullen?
Yes. I look forward to it. Every year. It’s like Christmas—just minus all the presents, good food, joy and happiness.
So, why not add an additional freak out factor to the mix that makes me want to call up and reschedule my appointment to say…I don’t know, never?
Really, let’s just hope that if anything is wrong, it’s nothing serious.
– lindsey archer