I went to the dentist’s office today for a routine cleaning – or so I thought.
They brought me right in and I was escorted to the comfy dental chair where I have spent past visits counting the specs on the drop ceiling tile above my head (2,875 to be exact). I started to nod off when the dental hygienist walked in.
It wasn’t my usual girl, but she seemed nice enough. #lookscanbedeceiving
She was friendly and even hummed to the music playing in the background. Everything was fine until she pulled out the pick… The Pick of Death.
She seemed a little rough and I was praying she wouldn’t pick a tooth right out of my head. Clearly, I hadn’t prayed hard enough.
I felt a piece of tooth go flying. Well, bonding to be exact. Ya see, when I was 16 years old I had two teeth pulled prior to getting braces. When the braces were removed the dentist placed some bonding on the sides of a couple teeth to close a slight gap. That bonding has been with me for over 35 years. We were family.
The dentist, being the sweetheart that he is, agreed to fix it immediately. But as he looked down at me with those long mad-scientist spectacles and his assistant kept placing a blue heated tube on my tooth I started to think they were creating a monster.
I felt like Frankenstein.
I pictured myself leaving with one SUPER LARGE TOOTH that overlapped my top lip. I would go into Walgreens and scare the customers. I would walk through my neighborhood and even the dogs would run way. The more my imagination took over, the more I wanted to laugh.
… like when you’re a kid in school and you can’t laugh in class so your body starts to shake. Oh boy. Now I was in trouble.
I refrained from laughing but couldn’t stop smiling. They must’ve thought I was insane.
When it was over, I didn’t even look at my tooth in the mirror – or at them. I said “thank you,” took my little baggy with a free toothbrush, floss and paste and walked out.
PS: I love brushing my new huge tooth. 😊