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I HATE going to the dentist.  Really.  I’m a complete dentalphobe.  Actually, there is a real name for my problem: “Post-Traumatic Dental-Care Anxiety” or PTDA.  When I make an appointment, there is pretty much a guarantee that I’ll be cancelling.  At least twice.  And usually at the last minute.  Apparently, this is taboo in the wide world of freaks who get their jollies off by putting their nasty hands in my mouth dentists.

I have an acquaintance who is a dentist as well as several friends and neighbors who are dental hygienists.  Some are closer than others, but I have to be honest and say that I don’t believe I can ever really trust any of them.  I believe that there must be some sort of character deficiency that allows you to perform dental work.  It’s gross and slobbery and painful.  I feel the same way about people who CHOOSE dentistry as a profession as I feel about people who CHOOSE proctology as a way to make a living.  

“You can take your finger out of my butt now and thanks.”

In my defense, I had a horrible dentist as a child who performed evil torture on me.  Remember this was back in the days before the zoo/party that is now Pediatric Dentistry.  Dr. O insisted on X-rays ALL THE TIME and those nasty flouride trays.  Both of these made me gag, heave, and usually barf right in the floor.  He probably hated to see me coming down the hall (in tears of course) as much as I hated to see his evil eyes over the top of that face mask.

Barbie gets into the S & M business

Due to an insurance change, we had to find a new dentist this year.  I made appointments for Prince Charming, the Princess and myself this past Spring.  They both kept their appointments and made it home successfully.  I, however, cancelled my first appointment the morning of the appointment and later got a bill because I’m so rude for having  a life that doesn’t need oral torture.  I tossed that bill in the trash. 
I rescheduled.  And cancelled.  Again.
This time, they didn’t bother to send me a bill.  They also didn’t allow me to reschedule.  Now, I’ve been blacklisted by my dentist.  They call me periodically to inform me of a cancellation, but I never accept the appointments.  I know I’ll just cancel at the last second anyway so why bother?
Maybe I can hold off for a few years.  The Princess swears that she wants to be a dentist when she grows up.  On one hand, I’m happy to have my darling child take care of my teeth (and pay off her student loans with her handsome salary).  But really, it makes me sad to know that there is something so WRONG WITH THAT CHILD to want to pursue this career. 
I’m thinking I should push her towards a more normal job.  Like prostitution. 
“Honey, you’ll get to make your own hours AND sleep late every day.”