The Jane Genie

I hate the dentist.

I hate everything about it. I hate the way when they call you they refer to your dentist by their first name, so you don't know who they're talking about. I hate the way they put gross pictures of other people's teeth on the television screen while you wait.

I hate the way that this guy who was supposed to be poking around my mouth wasn't even wearing dentist uniform, just a shirt and chinos. I hate the way the chair goes down and you have to keep shuffling up.

I hate the way they ask you whether you're okay, even though you're obviously crapping yourself. I hate the way they say it will only be a small pin prick feeling, and it really bloody isn't. It's like sharp pain and mounting pressure so painful my eyes were clenched to the point of a tear rolling down my face.

I hate the way they read out a huge list of all your favourite foods and proceed to tell you that you can't eat them anymore. I hate the way they drill into your teeth and don't care about smacking the rest of your mouth with the equipment. I hate the way they say 'just a bit more', 'actually, some more here', 'sorry, more here' as if you have a chance to protest about it.

I hate the way they really hurt you and don't seem to care, and I hate the way they give you a cup of water to wash your mouth out with even though your entire left side of your face is numb. I hate the way you end up drooling down yourself because you can't feel it and no one is telling you.

I hate the dentist. But I hate even more the fact I have to go back and do it all again in a few weeks.