Dentistry: The Devil's Work

I hate the dentist. Came back from that hell hole a week ago...definitely worse for wear. I walked in with a relatively decent smile and the ability to swallow. Walked out with a crooked smile (if you could call it that) due to several numbing shots and excess saliva. COOL. Oh-I also did this awesome thing: when I tried to drink water I ended up choking and drooling. #ThisIsWhyI'mHot

I hate the dentist. But I love my technician or whatever you call them. She is really sweet and always genuinely sounds like she regrets having to mutilate my mouth. But yet she was also the one wielding the needle that inflicted several shots of pain. She asked me questions, which are hard enough to answer with hands in your mouth, but the mumbling increased when I couldn't feel my lips (side note: I almost asked if the numbness would be gone by the time I saw Tyler next because that's of crucial importance). 

I came home and laughed at my reflection in the mirror, doubling over with giggles when I tried to apply chapstick and couldn't feel anything. Shari and Megan received a picture of the results, with strict instructions to keep it to themselves. I also HeyTelled Megan (an app on the iPhone that basically works like a walkietalkie) so she could experience the gibberish spouting from my vocal chords, ending the message with an upbeat "die!" because my ability to pronounce the letter "b" had escaped me entirely. 

Guys, I was hungry. But chewing anything would likely end up in a shredded tongue. And I'd already demonstrated my failure drinking skills. A Very Lucky Girl gave up, napped, and woke up with a slightly less numb mouth. I hate the dentist.


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