Annoying Things About the Dentist

So clearly no one likes going to the dentist (unless you're five years old and have hopes and dreams of never being banned from that treasure chest), but after having gone to the dentist a total of 6 times (yes, 6 times, count them) in the past year, I realized that there are things about the dentist that make you want to rip your teeth out (#irony).

And yes, this will be one of those full fledged RANTS, complete with all caps and curse words, and general torment. You have been warned.

The first thing about dentist that really kills me is the fact that they're completely silent while they're prepping the chairs, the sinks, the big scary whirly machines, but as soon as they ram that little poky guy and water in your mouth, that's the time they choose to be enraptured by your current grade in school, if you have any siblings, and who your husband is, apparently (Fun fact: having a hyphenated last name will make the dentist assume you're married, which is both terrifying and flattering that he thinks you're not twelve years old).

I mean, you'd think that after those "20 some years of professional dentistry" they all brag about, they'd learn that it is impossible to talk with a bunch of metal shoved up your mouth. Maybe 4 out of 5 dentists don't have adequate social skills.

However, the alternative to yakking at you like you're besties, is when the dentist gets an assistant to come into the office, and all of a sudden, instead of telling you what's about to me jammed up into your gums, they're suddenly bonding over delicious Spring rolls at that great new restaurant. First of all, I'm already sallivating all over your chair, dentist. Do you want me to just get it over with, and hurl my food-talk induced spit all over your face, too? Like, I'm glad you like your assistants and all, but when you are putting a NEW FREAKING TOOTH IN MY MOUTH, I would really love to know like, what's going on. I'm only paying you for your fifth born's new yacht, no big deal.

And hey, if you really want to piss me off, why don't you shove a goop-filled tray in my mouth, tell me you'll be right back, and then disappear for ten minutes? Oh, great. Now I can have my deepest thoughts while I'm choking on my own spit. I mean, how very considerate of you to finish your discussion on spring rolls in my absence, but would it kill you to be like "hey, I'm gonna grab some more [insert overly priced equipment here]"?

I'm not paying for a suspense movie, guys. I'm paying for the ability to chew. Thanks.

The next thing that always happens, no matter who's inspecting my teeth, is they'll poke their heads in my mouth, get all wide-eyed, and say "gee, you have a really tiny mouth!" No shit. Like, out of context, that's just really rude. It's not like you're saying "you have a really tiny mouth, so here, have some mouth enhancer," you're just making, I don't know, small talk? What the hell kind of small talk is that? Like, I'm not about to walk up to you, stare at your chest, and go all "gee, you have really tiny tits!" And even if my ob/gyn did that, I'd smack her. I'm aware I have a small mouth. None of you have offered any solutions to this observation, so until you can physically grow my mouth, please shut up about it.

And for the last time, giving those tools cutesy names like "Mr. Sandy" will not make them hurt any less.

Namaste.