Dentist...

I love my dentist.

For a while there, I really wanted to become a dental hygienist. "Cavity free and lovin' life" has been my motto throughout the ages.

Every 6 months since I was a wee tot, Dr. Cohen has come in at the end of my cleaning, checked out my pics, told me to bite down, then said something along the lines of "Gorgeous, girl!" Or "Those are the best looking teeth I've seen all week!"

And I have this huge ego boost and I tweet about it and make all my dumb friends with dental issues feel inferior. Kidding. Well kinda.

Anyway, I'm running around today. Things to do. Places to go. Dentist appointment. I go in, I get all polished and foamed and x-rayed and whatever else. Then....Dr. Cohen comes in. And he takes longer than normal to look at my pictures. and so then I turn around and ask the dreaded question, "You seeing something in those pictures?"

And he says, "Quite a few somethings."

And I thought he was joking.

But no, I have like, 6 little cavities. And now I just feel like a degenerate, good-for-nothing bum who has to carefully brush her teeth at night with this old lady fluoride treatment. Goodness. Looks like it's no more Pepsi for me.