Oh, the dentist

I went to the dentist this morning.

I dreeeaaaaaad the dentist, and as such, have postponed for a while. But my gums are pregnancy unhappy, and you read all these articles about dental health being really important. And possible leading to low birth weight.

Which selfishly appeals to me. Being a little scared about the ginormity of what I might have to squeeze out of my hoo haa.

But being semi-responsible, I went. I get all nervous. I sit in the chair and sweat.

One a side bar, I briefly dated an orthodontist. And while I never asked him, I always wondered if, in the same way I constantly pay attention to people's language and phrasing, he was always secretly assessing the state of my teeth.

So today's dentist.

Ss per usual, got all nervous-sweaty. And discovered that all is relatively OK - and in fact very good in the scheme of pregnant gums and such. And next step, we see where things are post-pregnancy.

Relief!

But you know - and it's not that I don't trust them exactly, but they always use those sharp pokey scrapey things. And so, when they're digging in your mouth with metal picks, and they say, "Hmm. This could be a problem in the future. We'll keep an eye on this."

You can only think, "Of course it'll be a fucking problem! You just poked a hole in it with a sharp metal thingy!"