1. Because I really want to waste 30 minutes to an hour of my time just so people can poke me, prod me and otherwise get on my nerves.
2. All the dentist speak. All doctors do it, so you know what I’m talking about. For instance, “She’s got a problem with her lower T-12. We’re going to have to ostracize it and cross-counter the white-balance so as to prevent problems in the future on that bicucpid.” Okay…what?!?! Speak English. I’m RIGHT HERE IN THE CHAIR. Also, what am I? A computer or a piece of hardware?!
3. The scraping tools. I should know what they’re called, seeing as my mother works there(although only as a receptionist), but I don’t. I just hate that feeling of hard metal, grinding against my teeth. Who doesn’t?
4. When the dental hygenist asks you a question and you clearly can’t answer because their hands are in your mouth. Really, trust me, I’d love to talk about my brother’s love of duck(which is somewhat strange, if you ask me, considering his former loves were Big Macs and turkey sandwiches) or the fact that I’m taking a semester off from college, which you probably think is extremely lazy of me, but I can’t. You inserted your gloved hand down my mouth cavity and I can’t speak around it.
5. Whenever they insert those aforementioned tools in your mouth, scrape, and come up with some previously consumed snack food residue. They wince, you wince, and it’s just altogether an awkward experience and, I feel, an invasion of my privacy. You needn’t know all that I had to eat yesterday..or days prior.
6. And now that we’ve gotten to that…attacks on your dental hygiene. “Do you floss 5 times a day?”, “Does your toothbrush get more action than you?”, “Do you consider using fluoride a must?” NOOOOO!!!! I will be the first to admit that I don’t floss, unless it’s on special occassions such as Hanukkah, which I don’t even celebrate because I’m not Jewish. Touching wet, saliva-covered pieces of string and pulling them in between my gums is not my idea of fun. I don’t even wear my retainer. How do you like me now?
7. When they tell me how small my mouth is because they a-l-w-a-y-s do this. Well, if my mouth is so small, then it should be completely understandable that I cannot reach those back two teeth with a rotating, gargantuan toothbrush. (That same toothbrush was my Easter present. Hallelujiah! Now I can brush and brush and brush my problems away!!! Because isn’t that what the season is all about?!) I would also like to say that those two teeth? They weren’t there until about, oh, circa 2008. I am not entirely used to the fact that they are there, seeing as the oral surgeon had to uncover them because of the previously mentioned “small mouth” problem. They literally were unable to come in.
8. I don’t like my dentist. He’s an okay man, I guess, but I still hold a grudge against him. He’s not the most tactful man ever to roam the earth. One time, during Shark Week, I was getting my teeth cleaned and he compared my molars to that of a lemon shark. Thank..you?
9. My mom works there. Which makes it..weird. Convenient, how she can just schedule me and I can walk right in, but..still weird. I don’t want to talk to you about what happened in there. The only way it could be more awkward is if she was a receptionist at the gynecologist.
10. They always tell you, “This won’t hurt.” Sometimes they’re telling the truth, sometimes they’re not. It’s usually a 50/50 gamble between searing pain and a mild jerking feeling. But just in general, I don’t like pain or inconvenience. When that sucking thing ejects your spit back onto you, when they try to x-ray your teeth and you nearly choke on the thing that’s supposed to keep your mouth open, when they give you those gift bags with free toothbrushes. I don’t need them. Give them to children in Somalia!
And those are, in summary, the reasons I do not like the dentist.