Four Out of Five Dentists

I wish I could tell my 13 yead old self not to be so self-conscious about looks and such. After all, at 13 you're still just a kid. And I was up against some tough competition in my class. I wish I could have told myself to have fun as a kid, and that I'd have a whole lifetime of being uncomfortable with my appearance ahead of me. So let loose, kids. You'll always be ugly.

This is what was going through my head today. At the dentist. Let's backtrack: I have been a loyal flosser for many years, but for some reason I gave up a few months ago, thinking it doesn't really matter either way.

Today, the dentist told me that I have two cavities that could have been prevented by flossation. Great. So he did his drilling/filling thing (and took his time). I was there for about 3 hours. I started to get bored and uncomfortable so I began to make out images in the stucco patters on the ceiling. I gave up when every pattern began to resemble an angry koala. Then my dentist reall started to annoy me. He kept saying, "Hmmmmmm..." and exchanging knowing glances with the assistant. After three unnerving hours, he announced that he was done. Then he said that it would be normal for my gums to bleed for a while.

Um. That doesn't sound normal to me. How long is a while? And why did you injure my mouth in such a manner for it to bleed for duration of the aforementioned "while"? No other dentist has ever made my mouth bleed. Should I walk around with a spittoon in my arms?

I got over it. But I will say this: Since I've started flossing again, I've realized that I don't have nearly as many teeth as I thought I did.