What do I look for in a dentist or doctor? The same quality I look for in a hairdresser: Please, don't make me feel like shit.
My last haircut was over a year ago (might be closer to two) because the hairdresser sneered at my color choice and told me I wasn't using the right product. I've been cutting and coloring my own hair ever since even though I still have twenty bucks on the salon giftcard someone gave me. She accidentally cut off a huge chunk of hair, but hair grows back and curls hide a lot of flaws. Her words are what I hear every time I think about getting my hair done.
I love my dentist. In fact, I've recommended him highly because he has a great sense of humor and doesn't make me feel like shit. I also love his dental assistant: she cracks me up and sings along to the radio. And- most important- doesn't make me feel like shit.
I know I live in a world where I'm the only person who doesn't floss every day and can't manage to brush her teeth without fucking up her gums. I'm an idiot who deserves to have her teeth repossessed and given to someone who could take better care of them. I realize that and don't need reminders.
At my last appointment, a new dental assistant was there. I grew to hate her by the end of the session.
1. She's one of those late fortyish women who treat other women as if they're babes in the woods. When she asked me who was singing on the radio (okay, why would you ask someone a question while you have your fingers in her mouth?), and I said it was Frankie Valle, she gave a gasp and said, "How do you know that? You're just a baby." Really? I have 43 years to her 49 (yes, I found out her age, her weight, and shoe size because she wouldn't shut the fuck up). Do I look like I'm insecure about my age? Do I look like I need some condescension in my compliments?
2. She asked me if I had my tongue pierced, and when I told her yes, she said she'd make a good detective. Really? Because you'd somehow have to be Sherlock-fucking-Holmes to see the divot in my tongue and notice the corresponding divot on the other side and realize, "Aha! Methinks the tongue was pierced at one time!?"
3. She made me feel like shit. My hair was too long and was in her way. I had too much spit that she had to vacuum. And I didn't take care of my teeth.
I was clearly the lowest of the low, unfit for dental health, human consumption, and life as we know it.
I hope this was a one-time deal. I miss the regular dental assistant, and I promise to floss all the livelong day if I could just get her back.