I should be fair... my dentist is the nicest guy. He's down to Earth and speaks openly with me about himself and his family. He's from the Northwest. And he tells me in advance when he's gonna jam both hands into the farthest corner of my mouth, resulting in "a little bit of discomfort." Hmm...at least he gave me a heads up. He also says things like: "you have weird molars." And: "Does it bother you that your teeth are so close together? I mean, how do you floss!?" Thanks buddy. Thanks for the authentic bluntness. To be fair... he did tell me I have "pretty teeth." Evidently they're weird, close together and pretty. That'll do.
|My weird, close-together, pretty teeth!|
So... the beer tonight will calm my nerves, hopefully relieve some jaw discomfort (no jokes needed here folks) and perk up my pride a bit. I mean... I'm not less of a person just because I've had ten... TEN!... fillings in the last three weeks. I SWEAR I BRUSH MY TEETH! Stop judging me now... seriously. It's not my fault... it's my weird molars.