Humor

I Only Get My Teeth Cleaned On ’80s Day

Trying to talk a dentist into playing good music is like … well … pulling teeth

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I’ve developed a fear of the dentist — but not in the way you think.

I’m pretty tough, pain-wise. I always request we skip the novocaine unless they’re drilling deep because I dislike dealing with numbness afterward. I laugh in the face of root canals. For tooth cleanings, I beg the hygienist to dig her sharp little pointy tools as far into my gums as she can. I believe it feels refreshing.

But do not, for the love of God, play country, rap or hip-hop while I’m helpless in that chair. I will lose my shit. (I am told there’s a difference between rap and hip-hop, so I listed both, but I have no idea what that difference is.)

My heart fell when I checked in for my last appointment.

Something twangy was playing. It made me think of southern-style sweet tea — the kind so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, which would be appropriate for a dental visit, I guess.

It also made me think of women whose men done them wrong. And men whose women done them wrong. Lots of beer and pickup trucks.