Multiple reasons why I don't like the dentist.

I always feel bad when I write these kinds of things. Because the whole time I'm thinking, like, "you should be thankful that you can even GO to the dentist, ya big jerk." But let me just be human for .5 seconds and tell you why I would rather go to AWFUL girly-girl doctor's appointments once a week than go to the dentist a couple times a year.

For one, I'm mostly just pissed off at myself for waiting so long to go because this is a prime example of the fact that I'm mediocre at a lot of skills that I should be better about, such as making important doctor's appointments. I thrive at being mediocre, I think. The few things I'm good at are as listed:

-I can basically rap on command. Ask Chris. Sometimes the raps don't make much sense but don't ever question this skill of mine unless you want to be summoned for a rap battle.

-I'm pretty good at cooking. That's cooking--NOT baking. Just for the record.

-I'm pretty positive that I'm a beast when it comes to the field of child welfare. I mean, let's be honest, it's the one goal I've actually stuck with since childhood--besides marry a hot drummer.

-I'm also pretty awesome at hugging. Not even going to be modest about that.

Basically everything else in life seems like it should come much easier than it actually does--like baking, answering my phone before it goes to voicemail, riding a bike (just kidding--that joke is for Chris.)

I'm totally joking--I'm good at more things than what I listed above. My point is that I should have stinkin' gone to the stinkin' dentist before stinkin' now because NOW instead of having ONE cavity---I have 4.

Before you start visualizing me as having some kind of nasty gremlin teeth full of cavities and plaque let me just say that I brush my teeth often. I called my mom after my dentist appointment all like, "whattheheck, mom..why are my teeth so crappy" and she said something like we have softer teeth that get cavities and have problems more easily. (Basically, a genetic WIN.)

Whateva--I'm cool with it because I was able to ward off dumb boy related drama until later in my highschool years because I was that kid with braces for 5 years on top of every other metal contraption invented to make any kids mouth look like a torture chamber. (Maybe we shoulda left all that stuff in there longer. Actually, maybe we should have just homeschooled or something.)

I'm beginning to see that my distaste for the dentist has some early roots. I should hash those out later in the form of irrational and overly dramatic complaints to my husband who will laugh at me and make me feel even worse. But then we'll hug.

So I go to the dentist with my FOUR cavities and my UBER LATE appointment that should have happened oh, say, a year ago..and then I just flat out ADMIT that I'm a huge baby and that it is highly likely that I am going to cry or sweat profusely or swear on accident. They kind of laughed but in the nervous kind of way like they were actually scared I was going to flip out and start throwing their scary pointy equipment around.

I thought the worst part was going to be the numbing shots that they SHOVE into your gums without warning. (4 of them.) I don't blame them fully for not telling me--they probably thought I was highly unstable. I was. I figured once I'm numb all will be well with the world. Wishful thinking, I suppose--because they started the work and all I heard for the next hour was that awful high pitched drilling noise in the inner most part of my jaw/ear.

Naturally-my brain began to think of all of the excuses I could make to bust out of that joint. Tell them I'm going to throw up or poop or maybe I could just punch one of them in the face unexpectantly and blame it on nervous and combative reflexes. Either way, it was basically an hour of dentisthell.

One redeeming quality: half way through, the dentist tells me she forgot to inform me that she'll be using silver filling for the cavities..she wanted to know if this was okay (?) OKAY!? Of course it's okay--just one step closer to fulfilling my dream to become a ferocious-but-kind pirate. This new information allowed me to envision myself as a more believable pirate until a second later when I remembered there was basically a chainsaw/drilling fest goin on in my mouth.

This story doesn't have a happy ending because my mouth feels like poop.
Also, I have to go back in another week so they can finish.

Go to the dentist, people.
Pirate Jordan.

P.S. If you're studying to be a dentist (Hey, Clint) then I apologize and hope this doesn't discourage you. I'll pray that you don't get patients like me. Don't worry, you're gonna be great.