By the Skin of My Teeth.

For as long as I can remember, I've never understood the aversion people have towards the dentist. Granted, I've never had more than a few 'soft spots' that needed tiny fillings. And I didn't need shots or laughing gas or anything.

I never got braces. I still have all of my wisdom teeth (for now...).
Three of them are grown in actually.
And no needle has ever approached my mouth.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have a pretty stellar dental history.

That could be attributed to the awesome dentist I've seen every six months for as long as I can remember. Or to the prize drawer he let me raid after every appointment.

It most likely stems from the gleaming pack of Trident gum he handed each of us on our way out to have for our very own.
Because to a six year old, that's gold.

Granted, Mom did lecture the entire ride home on the evils of aspartame.
But even the fear of death couldn't have pried it out of my little hands.

But yesterday, all of this changed. Instead of being greeted by my usual friendly, male hygienist, Steve, a pleasantly plump woman called out my name.

I mean, she was friendly too, but it only took me an instant to realize that she was going to be quite the chatty Kathy. She wouldn't stop talking about my 'perfect teeth' or 'beautiful eyelashes'. It never ceases to amaze me how they think I'll be able to respond when they have both hands shoved in my mouth.

And why do dentists tell you to never poke at your teeth with a sharp object then go crazy stabbing your gums with pointy metal tools?..

As if that weren't bad enough, the entire time my head was nestled between her giant bosoms. There was no escaping them. All I could do was look at the little 'smile' sticker stuck to the ceiling and go to my happy place.

It was then I noticed what appeared to be blood on her gloves. The woman was murdering me and there was nothing I could do about it!

Then to add insult to injury, she went crazy with the water-squirter-thingy. My face was sprayed multiple times. I had to close my eyes it got so bad. No lies.

In an effort to be what I can only assume was helpful, she swabbed my cheeks several times with her little stacks of gauze, but when I started feeling drops on my forehead, she broke out the big guns and decided to just mop my whole face with a paper towel.

Thanks a whole heap, lady.

And I can't be sure, but I am fairly certain that she let out a little burp behind that mask while working two inches from my face. My first clue being I heard it and my second that I'd seen her come out of the break room literally two seconds before summoning me back to her torture chamber.

Thus ends my wonderful experiences at the dentist's office.
I mean, it was lovely an all, but next time,

I'm reserving Steve.