Monday, November 2, 2009


Usually I don't mind going to the dentist. I end up fighting them off like used car salesmen when they try to sell me services. If I ever agreed to having my wisdom teeth removed for no reason other than preventing possible future cavities and having them taken out at some later time, I would no longer be able to spread my wisdom all over this blog. I also don't need fillings especially since they've refilled the same tooth three times already. I finally caught on to that little scam.
I was surprised to have a male hygienist this time. It feels a little personal to have a man looking in my mouth. They've looked in other places--but never there. He was a very short little man and when he stopped quickly and I tripped over him in the hall I reached out to steady him. Sorry little man for hurting you. When he put on his weird sci fi surgeon style goggles I closed my eyes so that it wouldn't seem so intimate. I thought he'd be timid and gentle, the way other male doctors and other professionals usually are. (Except that surgeon I went to, let's not forget that incident!)
And then the pain began. A half hour cleaning turned into an hour of torture. Okay, he was good. And vicious. I practiced deep breathing. I counted to ten instead of slapping his goggles right off his close little face. I wondered if he did this to children as well. I wondered if anyone ever requested him. I tried not to cry. I thought about happier times. I kept telling myself it could only last so long.
Not entirely unlike other intimate moments with men.
I now have a healthy fear of the dentist.
Thank goodness he didn't decide to become a gynecologist instead.

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