Wisdom Teeth

I hate going to the dentist, and it hates me.  I am not one of the people who have mouths that are exclaimed over for their perfect alignment, sparkling white teeth, and lack of cavities.  In fact I could brush eight times a day and floss five, and there would still be a cavity.  It seems that my teeth are destined to hold onto all sugar that it comes in contact with and then immediately turn into plaque that slowly eats away at my teeth.  So it goes I guess.

Most young children will gladly pronounce that they have had no cavities...i have had about nine.  When others ask, usually I'll lie. It's to the point of embarrassment now.  But I cannot lie about my wisdom teeth.  The dentist knows they're there, I know they're there and they are going to have to come out.  It's the horror stories that make my stomach drop, hands clammy up, and mouth go dry.  I can picture it now...they'll come in, white lab coats on with a huge needle ready to shove up my arm.   ughh...i can't think about it past there, I'm afraid I might faint.

So when the time comes I hope they completely knock me up with some hard drugs and that miraculously it won't hurt.  I hope.