I try not to be one to toot my own horn too much, but after coming to personal acceptance that transitioning could cost me absolutely everything and coming out the other side, there isn’t too much left that I’m afraid of. My second worst fear is being forced into a public speaking engagement to a hostile and vocal audience with full knowledge that what I have to tell them is only going to enrage them more. My greatest fear is the dentist. Having had to face both on several occasions, and getting my ass handed to me with extreme prejudice more than once, I can confirm that they remain in the correct order.
After I joined the Air Force I was dismayed to learn that annual cleaning was a direct order; no exceptions. Had I known that, I probably wouldn’t have joined. It was terrible and the dentist yelled at me for being afraid of him, only adding to the overall shittiness of the situation. I swore that I would never go again once out after my 4 year, 4 annual cleaning, stint. I brush fastidiously and avoid chewing on wads of sticky candy whenever possible. Now I’ve got a problem. Two problems actually. First, I’m pretty sure I have multiple cavities that are becoming more troublesome by the day. Second, I’ve been told by someone that my grill is kind of male-ish, so now I’m all self conscious about it. Damn it. Looks like not only will I have to go in, but probably lots if I’m going to fix this.
The root of my fear is that although I have a remarkably high pain tolerance overall, I have zero pain tolerance when it comes to my teeth. They are sensitive in a way that goes well beyond the capabilities of Sensodyne or even several shots of Novocain. If given a choice between breaking my strongest oath of secrecy or biting an ice cube, I’d be spilling my guts before they even got to the freezer. Seriously, if I fell into the hands of the Taliban, my biggest worry would be that a DQ franchise opened nearby and they were inclined to treat me to a twisty cone. It’s that bad.
Since my company is awesome and not inclined to can me out of fear and loathing, and I survived the last few layoffs, I’m going to up my dental to the premium plan. Once I do, I’m going to find a nice sedation dentist whom I can cajole into yanking out the lot of them. Seriously, I’m more than OK with going with a nice set of falsies, preferably small, feminine, bright white and delightful to look at. Something nice, hard, and in no way connected to my nervous system. My long departed grampa had a fake set he used to delight us with by removing and swishing around in his beer. Yeah, I think I could be very happy being an old lady like that, making use of my chompers for maximum comedic value. I could even get a set with one gold one, right up front, for extra classy occasions. It’s going to be sweet.