I’ve not been to the dentist in about ten years. It’s not something I’m proud of but you know how it is. Finished uni and then moved here permanantly and finding a dentist was just put on my ‘to do’ list (somewhere near “be sensible” and “do grown up stuff like get a mortgage”). Because I never had any problems I never had much incentive to sort it out.
Still, I’ve been aware of a small cavity developing for a while now so this morning I finally got around to going. As I sat there in the waiting room – trying to avoid looking through the year old ‘Reveal’ magazine sat on the table to find out which bikini diets really work for fear of being seen by the security camera – I started wondering what the dentist would say when they found out how long it had been. Would he/she fix me with a dissaproving stare or simply look into my mouth and utter “Oh. My. God…..”
As it turned out neither were the gase. He asked me a few questions, poked around, zapped my head with cosmic rays and then sent me on my merry way with another appointment in three weeks time.
That’s when I might have to face the drill….