Friday's Confession Booth: Satanic Dentists

First of all, I want to say I'm excited to be participating in Kristen's (at A Little Something For Me) new blog meme: Friday's Confession Booth. Got a juicy confession you want to unload? Or even a less-juicy one? Anything goes, so go on over and link up!


Confession #1: I haven't been to the dentist since (oh my gosh, I can't believe I am about to admit this out loud)...before I got married.

Gulp.

That's right. Eight years. Gasp, judge, cringe, think me white trash. I don't care.

I hate the dentist. I LOATHE the dentist. Not them, personally. I'm sure they're great guys. And you cute dental hygienist chics? Love you.

But get your hands away from my mouth. You ever think that just maybe I like my bacteria-infested mouth the way it is?

Okay, we both know I don't, or I wouldn't be there. But I want to throw a tantrum when I think about going--two-year-old style. And I know these are big words, but I think I mean it when say I'd rather give birth than go to the dentist.

And that's coming from someone who's given natural childbirth twice, and prefers it that way.

There's just something about my teeth, and people's hands, and sharp instruments that makes me want to run screaming. It's so unbelievably uncomfortable, sitting there with your mouth pried open and instruments scraping at your gums/teeth. So today I sat there, knuckles white, as I grasped my shirt in my fists and closed my eyes, willing it to be over...

...And made unflattering grunting sounds in response to the stories Mrs. RDH was telling about her son. They don't really expect you to answer, do they--with their claws, blades, vacuums, and hoses down your mouth?

But I don't have an excuse for not ever going the past eight years. I know, blaming it on the kids is a poor one, but I'm still going to use it. That, and I've always been told by every dentist that I had amazing teeth, so....if I have amazing teeth, why go?

Well, I learned a couple lessons today, and I'll get to those.

I went to the dentist every year before I got married, got the routine cleanings, etc. And in all that time, I've never needed braces and have only had one tiny cavity. Dentists have told me I'm lucky.

And then I got married and my parents could no longer force me to go. So I stopped. I thought, I never have cavities. My teeth are strong.


And then we come to confession #2: I never floss either. Like, hardly ever.

And confession #3? I usually never brush my teeth more than once a day.

And you thought I was disgusting in the beginning?

At least I learned my lesson, though. I'm telling you, people, no matter how satanic the dentist is, if you ever plan on going back again some day, do not skip your yearly/twice-yearly checkups! You. Will. Regret. It. It makes all the torture that much worse.

Torture at its finest. Pure, pure Hell.

Blood-squirting. I'm not making this up. It actually squirted, and by the end her latex gloves were covered in it. She says it might be because I'm still nursing and the hormones make your gums more sensitive. But I just think she needed to be more sensitive.

Gagging. I chocked on a mix of water, my own blood, and my own tooth crap, and ended up spewing it all over the front of me. Drenching my shirt, my hands, my legs, and my arms in pinkish, watery goo. Gosh, aren't you loving this post? I know, this could have happened to any regularly-going patient, but maybe if I had more practice going, I would know how to NOT breath the crap in that's running down the back of my throat. Little vacuum, you sucked. Or....rather, you didn't suck.

Scraping. Oh, the scraping. I swear, she was trying to sculpt the statue of David in my teeth with that little hooked dagger.

And the watermelon-flavored gel stuff? Do they think giving it a melon flavor is going to make it appealing? Well, it doesn't. I still gagged.

And seriously, lady? Again...my gums have feeling. Stop man handling and be a little gentle with the weapon in your hand. When I cringe and you see blood, that's my body's way of saying BE GENTLE!

So after eight years of dentist-free teeth, and an almost two-hour-long torture cleaning, here are the results: Aside from the massive tooth-aches from all the "work," I have four cavities. Dis. Gust. Ing. I know. It grosses me out, too. And one of those cavities will most likely be a root canal. Ugh, FML.

And on top of that? My wisdom teeth--the ones my old dentist (he's probably dead by now) told me I'd never have to worry about since they were coming in straight up? Well, they didn't. One of them is coming in straight to the side, gunning right for my molar. Who knew?

Not me. I've never had pain from it or anything. But regardless, I have to get it removed. And while I'm getting it removed, why not get all of them out? (Dentist's words, not mine)

Seriously. I'm almost twenty-nine and I'll be getting my wisdom teeth out. Ugh. Again, FML.

Did I mention I hate dental work?

But it's my fault. No more missing my daily flossing, or even my nighttime brushing. No more treating the dentist like the plague.

It's often those who have healthy teeth that think they're in the clear and don't care for them like they should.

Ah, thanks, Dentist. I should make that into a cute vinyl saying and put it on my living room wall.

I guess I should have just listened to my husband when he got on my ass about flossing every night. I bet you can't guess what his words were when I got home?

See, I told you so.