Six years.

On Tuesday night, I fulfilled one of the resolutions I made for 2010.

I went . . . to the dentist.

Now, in school, I was always striving for A's.

Yes.

I was one of those kids.

An "A-" made me nauseous.

That was so dangerously close to . . . *gasp* a "B."

When I was a child, my mother would take me, my brother, and sister to the dentist.  At the end, we would each get a report card.  My sister and I usually got "A's" . . . cause we're awesome like that.

My brother usually got "D"s.

Foolish boy.

Getting an "A" on my 6-month dental check up became extremely important to me.

Because I had nothing cooler to think about.

Fact:  The Lumberjack's Wife weighed 10 pounds more than she does now when she was in school.

Fact:  The Lumberjack's Wife was never invited to a party with alcohol growing up.

Fact:  The Lumberjack's Wife was never offered a cigarette.

Fact:  The Lumberjack's Wife contemplated breaking up with The Lumberjack when he told her he had participated in underaged drinking.

Fact:  The Lumberjack's Wife's parents, who read this blog upon occasion, are most likely horrified to read the above fact.

Back in January of 2004, when I was pregnant with Daisy Mae, I went to the dentist.

And, per usual, I received an A+ report card and was cavity free.

Thank you very much.

But, alas.

My dentist retired.

Our insurance became not so great.

And I gave birth three more times.

And gosh darn it, I have not been back to the dentist since.

Yes.

That would be 6 years.

So, I was a little nervous walking into this new dentist office on Tuesday.

I walk in.

I am greeted.

The greeter/receptionist gives me a complete and detailed tour.

Why?

I'm not sure.

But it was both lovely and informative.

Then she sits me down in a fancy-schmancy conference room, where she offers me water or juice.

*Ahem*

Is not juice bad for the teeth?

Thoughts?

She leaves me.

And I am waiting for awhile . . . and I am extremely nervous.

What if I have broken my perfect record?

What if I have . . .  a cavity?

So, I begin to worry.

Then, they make me wait so long that I have to use the bathroom.

My bladder only has a 1 1/2 hour lifespan max.

4 kids . . . what can I say?

I wash my hands, but I cannot find the paper towels.

I decide I don't care and I head back to the conference room . . . where the doctor is waiting for me.

And he wants to shake my hand.

Which is really wet.

Fact:  The Lumberjack's Wife is 100% certain she completely freaked out the dentist with her wet hands.

"Hello . . . blah, blah, blah . . . .are you taking any medications . . . . blah, blah, blah . . . . when was your last cleaning?"

Both the dentist and his lovely assistant raise their eyebrows.

"Six years?!  Hmmmm . . . ok."

I laugh nervously and tell them my husband hasn't been in over ten years because, for some odd reason, I feel that will make me look better.

So, I am done chit chatting with the dentist and I am taken back with his lovely, young, skinny, and certain-to-have-never-birthed-a-baby-nor-missed-a-6-month-dental-check-up assistant.

"Ok.  I am going to first take your picture."

So, she lines me up against this wall and puts this digital camera about 4 inches away from my face.

I ask her if she wants me to smile.

"Um, sure if you want."

Why is she taking my picture then?  Isn't she only interested in my teeth?"

She takes the picture.

She laughs.

"Sorry.  Your eyes look funny.  Let's try again."

Yes.

I always take pictures like this:

It's what I do best.

She takes a few, while smirking I might add, and finally decides on one where my eyes are only about half-closed.

Then she takes some x-rays of me while I am standing up.

And I am becoming more and more certain that she is laughing at me.

Every time I see her, she is looking at someone else, and smirking and laughing.

I think she thinks I am gross.

Because I haven't been to the dentist in 6 years.

And, yes. 

It is gross.

But, I am here, and that should count for something.

So, then she makes me lay down and gets ready to take x-rays of me while laying down.

She is thorough.

She gets me all set up and then stares at my tummy regions.

"Wait.  You're not pregnant are you?"

sigh

Silly, skinny, young girl who knows nothing about muffin tops caused by 4 children.

Fact:  The Lumberjack's Wife vaguely remembers having tummy fat before having children.

Fact:  The Lumberjack's Wife finds having 4 children a convenient way to blame said tummy fat.

"Nope."

"Oh, good!"

Then she takes more x-rays and continues to laugh at me to some mysterious other person whom I cannot see.

Is it whom or who?

100 (meaningless) points to whoever/whomever can correct my grammar.

The dentist comes back in.

I hope he has forgiven me for my gross, wet bathroom hands.

He looks at my x-rays.

"Hmmm . . . ."

He looks at each  individual tooth.

"Hmmm . . . "

He's going to tell me I have a cavity.

I just know it.

This is going to be devastating.

"Well . . . I can't seem to find anything wrong here with your teeth.  Everything looks great, except of course, they really need a cleaning."

Yes.

I am aware.

We have already established how gross I am.

Thank you.

Next, the cute and smirky assistant offers me the remote.

But who can watch tv at a time like this?

The hygenist, aka the poor soul who has to "clean that disgusting girl who hasn't been to the dentist in six years teeth" comes in.

She tells me I can watch tv.

I don't want to watch tv.

She gets started, then stops and reminds me that I can watch tv.

Fine.

I will watch tv.

They probably want me distracted so they can laugh about how gross my teeth are.

She finishes up.

"Well, they weren't too bad for someone who hasn't been in for six years."

Ha!

Redemption.

Then the cute assistant comes back in.

Her job is to now floss me.

Weird.

Then, before she even lets me get out of the exam chair, she makes me schedule my next 6-month exam.

*sigh*

I am not that gross, am I?

And that was my trip to the dentist.

Does everyone else in the world go to the dentist regularly?

Fess up.

Tell me how long it has been since you have been to the dentist.