The Dentists’ wet dream

Orally I am broken,

My mouth feels like Platform 9 3/4 must feel on the day all the young wizards return to Hogwarts.  It feels like even Voldemort himself has had a go at running straight through my gob.

I am in a little bit of pain.

And I am drooling in the same way that I do when someone posts a semi naked shot of Tom Hardy on Facebook.

Clearly I have been to the dentist.

For the fourth time in 2 months.

It would appear my teeth are still a little problematic – one bastard tooth in particular if I am honest.  It was the one I broke in Rome a few months ago, it throws daily tantrums, likes to poke me awake in the night like a horny husband, and makes eating ice cream tricky.

So I have been grown up, and despite the fact that going to the dentist makes my bladder want to wee, I have been.

Four times.

And it still isn’t fixed, and today I have figured out the reason why.

I think my dentist wants me.

Not in a sexual, touchy feely kinda way.

He is a lovely bloke, with a lovely wife.  Although I realise I am like honey is a to a bee to most men, this chap doesn’t look at me and let a gasp of air slide through his lips in adoration.

No, he looks at me and sees playtime, I am his oral sensation, fecked teeth that need him to don his Batman suit and get in their and fix them.

Just like my hairy chin is to my lovely beautician, my mouth is a real chance to roll up his sleeves and do some decent dentistry, like the shit he trained to do – none of this whitening crap, or polishing mayhem.  With the interior of my mouth he gets to have some serious fun.

I am a dentists wet dream.

Which is ironic since dentists are my living nightmare.

So today my tooth was numbed (3 times!), my lips must have swollen to the size of elephant balls, and then my tooth was treated to a drill, a shave, and many other processes that would fit beautifully in a vacant torture chamber.

Several times during my oral assault I actually saw my dentist skip in excitement from one side of the room to the other.  Plus, I swear I could hear him smiling as he dove deeper into the root.

I so rarely make men happy nowadays that at least I knew good was coming out of my agony.

When we finished, well he finished – it wasn’t good for me; he looked at me with glee in his eyes and said, “I need to see you again Jane.”

It is like the opposite of my online dates, and he only wants me for mouth…

Four down, one appointment to go.

I fecking hate the dentist.

northernmum