The Dentist

Is there anything worse than a trip to the dentist? Some women may might say a trip to the OB/GYN and men might balk at the idea of certain  examinations of their privates but there’s a universal fear and loathing linked to the annual trip to the dentist.

Nothing against my dentist personally, of course, but I think I had one of the most unpleasant hours of my year so far earlier today.

It didn’t help that it was lunchtime, so I was hungry. You’re stuck there with your mouth open, while tiny little drills and pickaxes (well, those scraper things may as well be) chip away at the build-up on, behind and between teeth.

Saliva runs down your throat making you gag (nearly puked several times), the hose thing to suck out the saliva makes you gag, there’s a faint taste of blood from between the sensitive gums. And then there’s the polish, adding a whole load of grit to the mix. Oh and did I forget the flossing!?!?

It’s slightly painful, totally gross and ends with a rinse meaning you can’t eat or drink for another half hour. Don’t make plans to go anywhere right after, unless you look good with half your makeup and lippy missing or smeared.

Is it any wonder I hate getting that recall?