Aaauuurrrgghhh!

I hate going to the dentist. Hate. Hate. Hate.

I don't hate it because it's painful, it's not. I don't hate it because I hate my dentist, I don't. I hate it because every single time I go to a dentist to have my teeth cleaned, I get to hear them tell me how many problems I have and what kind of money I need to give them to fix all the problems.

We've had dental insurance for the past six years and in those six years I have gone faithfully to the dentist every six months. In those six years, there has been one appointment where the only thing they said was "see you in six months." All the other appointments have led to other appointments where drilling and numbing and grossness were involved.

I went today and, surprise, I have a cavity in an upper tooth, and one of my lower teeth is cracked. Both will require fillings.

I inherited awful teeth - and I promise I take care of them. I am one of the only people in the world who flosses every day. I brush with expensive toothpaste that makes my mouth feel tingly. I have sworn completely off crunching hard candy and ice. I don't eat popcorn kernels.

John does all the bad things, doesn't floss as often as I do, brushes only in the morning and has only ever had like three cavities his whole life. His teeth are also straight and perfect - and mine, even after braces, have never really fit in my mouth.

Please, Oh Please, let Annie inherit John's perfect teeth.