May 6th, 2009

(no subject)

I used to love the dentist. I loved the little carousel in the waiting room, I loved the stickers that I got, I loved the penny they gave me at the end of the visit to get a treat from the little treat dispenser, I loved the friendly parrot - aptly named "Flossy."

I even loved the orthodontist. I loved the way my mouth would feel a bit sore when he tightened the wires on my braces, I loved how clean my teeth looked when he replaced my clear rubber bands, I loved how smooth and slick my teeth felt against my tongue when he took my braces off the summer before my senior year of high school.

I do not like the dentist anymore. I do not like the needle that goes in my mouth, or the loud drill. I do not like the sharp things that go poke poke poke scrape scrape poke poke whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh. I do not like rinsing and seeing blood and bits of gum flow down the drain. I do not like the "areas of concern" that pop up in between my teeth and need to be examined further and x-rayed. I do not like forking over my credit card and thinking about the amount of groceries I could've bought with that money.

I do not want to have to think about insurance. I want to have recess. I want to go to dance class and birthday parties and have extremely optimistic expectations about my future.