Do I scare easily? Perhaps. Horror movies make me rather jumpy. Spiders give me the shivers. Even the Weather Man with his “tornado watches” can put me on edge. But the one event that can make me sick to my stomach with fear? A trip to the dentist. Pathetic, I know, but it’s the truth. Is it the fear of failure, that the man with the white mask will tsk tsk at me if he finds a cavity? The possibility of a big ass needle being stuck in my mouth? Some kind of strange post traumatic stress disorder from bad dental experiences long ago? I’ve long tried stop figuring it out, I instead just spend my time channelling my energy to keeping my butt far…far away from all people Dentist. I brush, floss, rinse and repeat. I avoid phone calls from “that” office. I only go to the Dentist when I really, truly have to. In other words. I am a big fat baby.
I like my Dentist, I just don’t want to see him, like, ever. Unless let’s say, I do something dumb. Perhaps take a big old bite of something crunchy and break off some rather spendy cosmetic work on the front of my teeth! Yup! Did that. Chipped my tooth and now I’m pretty certain I look like this:
image via ebay costume
This new hillbilly look I’m sporting? It’s not sexy. Turns out turning hillbilly can be a pretty powerful motivator. Staring at myself in the mirror for only a few minutes had me reaching for the phone and booking myself a good old fashioned dentist appointment. Turns out I have found one thing more powerful than fear of the dentist, fear of turning hillbilly.