I hate going to the dentist. I don't know if there is residual emotional scarring from when I was a child, or what, but I don't want to hear them say "Do a better job with your brushing." As a teen, I think between the orthodontist poking around in my mouth, and the dentist poking around I just created this big well of anxiety that I tap every time I go.
Today wasn't too bad, but I could feel it on the drive there. And of course I got the "Do Better" speech. I know I could do better. Thankfully, I have good teeth.
The good news is that I don't have to go back for 6 months. To celebrate that good news, I went out and got a Chick-fil-A biscuit to eat with my newly polished teeth. Yum...
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