freak.

I spent 2 1/2 hours at the dentist this morning. Because of lapses in insurance from my mother's plan to finally acquiring my own, I haven't been to the dentist in 2 1/2 years.

I've never been afraid of the dentist, but going after such a lapse had me worried. I didn't want to sit in the chair and have the lady tsk at me and tell me that my teeth are rotting out of my head, or worse, I would need a root canal.

Of course my fears are unfounded seeing as how I'm having neither tooth pain nor sensitivity issues.

I sat back in the chair and closed my eyes. I think it's weird to stare at the dental hygienist while she's staring in your mouth with pointy objects. The idea of it makes me uncomfortable--it seems rude or improper behavior. By then I was obsessing with not looking at her which made me, of course, look up at her.

She had blue eyes that were concentrating on God-knows-what in my mouth. She looked young. She mentioned just moving out of her mother's house and I wondered exactly how old she was. I'm guessing 20, but she could be no older than 22.

She squints and I see her forehead crease. Uh oh. What is she doing? Why am I letting someone younger than me put sharp objects near my gums!?

Then I think of the whole dentistry profession and what a crock it is. These hygienists do all the work and then the elusive dentist comes in for 30 seconds and stabs at each tooth with something. If it hurts or sticks, he'll keep poking it until tears form in the corner of your eyes while he gets a hard-on for making you hurt. Then he mumbles about how you need to floss at least every other day and leaves.

The hygienists do all the work. I thought back to watching daytime TV and even worse, daytime TV commercials. Don't the same tech schools that offer you high school diplomas, bookkeeping, and private investigator also offer dental assistant? I think they do. They don't go to real schools. My lady may have gotten a 2 for 1 with the trade school: high school diploma and dental assistant. Or worse, gunsmithing and dental assistant.

My ability to psych myself out has only increased with age.

My mind begins to panic. She has something sharp and whirring at such a high pitch my ears hurt. The kind of people that go to trade schools are the kind of people that put cigarettes out on their arms in high school. I try and check her wrists, but the gloves go over her sleeves.

By this time my mind induces my ever-increasing gag reflex.

She draws back, "Did it hurt?"

"No, I just felt like I was drowning there for a sec."

We eye each other and I know we're thinking the exact same thing about the other:

freak.