I'll Never Talk

I don't think anyone would say they love going to the dentist. Well, I should qualify that by saying I don't know any adults who would say that. My children still love going to the dentist. I think this is mostly due to the bag of cool dental hygiene supplies that they get when they're finished. Oh, and the fact that they haven't had any cavities, thus, no pain.

I get a bag of cool dental hygiene supplies as well, but it doesn't make up for the pain and humiliation of sitting in that ugly, brown chair in the first place.

Maybe I'm just in a bad mood because they found another cavity, but I think it's mostly because a woman whose ancestors may have been involved in the fall of Rome was cleaning my teeth. Now don't get me wrong, she's a sweet lady, I'm sure, but in what other part of our life is it OK to let people we don't know jab sharp metal objects into our gums? Nowhere. That's the answer.

Yet I found myself lying back on a plastic chair while my teeth were "cleaned", and my mind flashed back to the few super-spy torture scenes I've witnessed on the telly. You know the ones. The spy refuses to give information, so the evil and usually deformed henchman unrolls a set of dirty metal tools. (I don't know what happens after that because I close my eyes and hold my ears.)

 My particular interrogator was not deformed, in fact, I'm sure she was lovely and kind, but she hummed non-stop while she worked. I think it was supposed to be comforting, but remember that in my mind I'm James Bond being questioned by Dr. Death. The humming made it all one degree creepier.

And isn't it so much fun when they find that one little cavity, and then decide to dig around on it a while just to make sure? Again, think torturer. The woman enjoyed it, and no one will convince me otherwise.

At one point there were four different pieces of equipment in my mouth, plus the fingers of two dental hygenists. All I could think of was the Far Side cartoon pictured above. I started to laugh, and the ladies thought I was choking. They stopped for a second, looking confused, and I told them, "Ladies, there's only so much you can fit in there." They gave me a weird look I always get when I go out in public, and went right back to what they were doing.

I walked out with a forced smile, two reminder cards for a filling and my next cleaning, a mouth rinse made primarily from wheat-grass juice, and all the free loot I could grab on the way out of the office. Maybe it was petty, but I'm not going to let evil triumph. Maybe that 2013 pocket calender is really part of their plan for world domination. Maybe it was all worth it. Or maybe they were only getting started.