You know you are getting old when your dentist seems too young to drive, let alone drill about in your mouth at will.

I've got this reminder postcard on my desk here, that says I'm due for my cleaning soon. And here I am, flossing like mad to make up for the fact I've been slacking again. If I floss for a good two hours a day until my appointment, and make some sort of bargain with God, I'll be okay and the hygienist won't have to mark my chart for not flossing (and then torture me with the hook tool).

I had a bad experience quite a few years back, at the hands of the "dentist" of my then "boyfriend". Both of those terms are in quotes because both of them were sub par in their roles. Never before had I tried to escape from a dentist, nor had I been tempted to exact revenge on a medical professional or a boyfriend. I still contemplate it from time to time. Think back to the days when the dentist was also the town blacksmith. It was like that only worse!

As a result of this horrid experience, I actually avoided the dentist for years. I'm really lucky that I don't have dental problems now, and I thank my attentive parents for that. My mother would haul us kids to the dentist several towns over, a feat that involved transferring onto several city buses, mind you. I don't know why she did that as I am sure the town we lived in had plenty of qualified dentists. It was my father's job to nag and threaten us kids if we didn't brush and then he would peer around in our mouths to see if we did a good job. Thanks Mom and Dad!

We love our current dentist. He looks to be about seventeen, but he's gentle, and I don't think he's a farrier on the side. He also has a policy that you never have to wait for your appointment time, which is good because I get testy while waiting for the inevitable torture (which never actually occurs anymore).