I am not so sure, dental paperwork is the appropriate outlet for my sense of humor to make an appearance. I filled out all the typical fill in the blanks, with ease. In the general information section, after name, the question was posed, what do you prefer to be called. I wanted to respond, 'Amy. Miss Jackson if you're nasty'.
I am not even sure why that Janet Jackson song popped into my head. The places your mind will wander when filled with mortal dread.
I also thought the request for my car phone number was an interesting one. I looked around, nervous that I had somehow traveled back in time to the 1980s.
I spotted a mirror in the distance and realized, it couldn't have been the 80s because my bangs weren't curled and teased 8 inches above my head.
|Technically, this is the 90s but you still have to admire those bangs|
and my American pride.
I also had a moment where I wanted to turn back and run. I contemplated calling my father in law, who is a veterinarian. I've heard countless stories of how he puts dogs under in order to clean their teeth.
In that moment, sitting in the dentist office, this sounded like a very good alternative.
Though, I am sure I would be considered a large breed dog and that's definitely not something I ever want on any medical record of mine.
So, I bravely headed into the dentist office.