I have mentioned this once or twice here, I think. I don’t make a big deal about it because I’m kind of ashamed. But, I am also kind of proud because I defeated my inner voice and did something that was very scary for me (even though I still have not told my parents).
Two years ago, November 2011, I had mostly all of my teeth removed. They had been destroyed through a combination of things: neglect (I used to really dislike myself. I used to do a lot of destructive things. Mr. Doom-n-Gloom was a good choice for me when I made it because I was being so horrible to myself), my seizure disorder (when I started having seizures I was too old to be diagnosed with epilepsy. Regardless, when you bite your teeth together during a seizure it’s very powerful, especially on already bad teeth) and my use of methamphetamine for the better part of two years. That third one surprises me probably as much as it surprises you (maybe… If you haven’t read about it here already). I am such a different person now than I was then. I would like to blame my environment, but I will definitely have to take responsibility for my choices — that’s part of the new me.
Anyway… I made a promise to myself that, when a certain one of my front teeth broke, I would finally call a dentist and see what I had to do to get my teeth fixed. I might bitch about Doom-n-Gloom a lot, but his job provides awesome dental benefits and I am ashamed that I did not start using them sooner. I called several dentists before I finally found one that would help me within two weeks of my call.
I knew how bad my mouth was when I went in for my initial appointment. I sat in the lobby waiting; feeling like a puppy dog that knew he did something very wrong. When the nurse called me in, she brought me to a room with a table and a couple of comfy-ish chairs and told me the doctor would be in to see me shortly.
Seriously, at this point it had been so long since I had been to see a dentist that I had absolutely no idea what to expect; I knew it was going to be different from a normal appointment, that’s it. So, I sat in that room and waited for the doctor (I don’t care if he’s technically a doctor or not. He is a fucking magician in my book!!) feeling kind of like I was going to throw up. Then, in walks Dr. McHotterson! I practically choked while I sat there attempting to swallow my pride and tell this beautiful man about my shitty mouth and how I had let it get so bad.
He listened to everything I said, taking notes and asking questions; completely not judging me. It was so strange for me not to be judged! He took me to the actual dentist chair and had the nurse come over and take some x-rays. Dr. McHotterson came back when she was finished, looked at the x-rays and started looking in my nasty mouth at my broken and stinky teeth.
After all of that, he sat my chair back upright and told me exactly what he was going to have to do to make me beautiful (that’s not how he said it, but that’s how I heard it) and how much it was going to cost me with insurance – option #1 and option #2. I agreed on option #1, because option #2 wasn’t going to help me fulfill my promise to myself.
I don’t think I have ever felt such humiliation and relief ever in my life! And I was feeling them both at the same time!
When my initial appointment was finished, the nurse took me to the appointment desk. We made payment arrangements and I scheduled my appointment for multiple extractions. In a week, the day before Thanksgiving, I was going to have all but 8 of my teeth pulled from my mouth.
When appointment-time came, I wasn’t nearly as scared as I had anticipated. I still didn’t know what to expect, but Dr. McHotterson had made me feel very comfortable and I trusted him to “do me right”. That awesome man spent almost three hours, first thing on a Wednesday morning, taking no breaks (he would answer other nurse’s questions, but he never left my side), yanking out broken teeth and wrestling with tooth shards. He anticipated every single one of my questions and concerns before I even had to attempt to communicate through all of the novocaine and equipment preventing that from happening — and, then, when I had to speak, he always knew what I was saying, even though I couldn’t even understand myself.
Dr. McHotterson has been more intimate with me, in my opinion, than any doctor I have ever had. I have exposed more of myself to him than any of my gynecologists/OBs/GPs, etc…
This week when I went in to see him, because I am getting fitted for a new set of permanent upper dentures (YAY!), he made me feel special and sexy and important to him all over again (I’m not getting a stalker crush on him or anything, he is just SO kind to me!). He even remembered that I told him, two years ago, I wish my front teeth were a little larger. I have been a tooth-grinder since I was a little kid and those front teeth had been basically worn down to nubs. The teeth in my new dentures are larger than the ones in my “baby” dentures and while Dr. McHotterson was looking at me while I had the mold of my new teeth in (to see what else that needed to be done to make them perfect) he said to me, “You’re right. I do like the bigger teeth. I think you should keep this size.”
OMG!! OKAY! Whatever you say, Dr. McHotterson!
All of that to get to this very short point…
I have never been one to fantasize about men I am not sleeping with! I fantasize about Loverman all the time and find it completely satisfying.That being said, this morning I was having some time alone with a couple of my vibrating toys (after 2 hours of kitchen cleaning and then some vacuuming and some garbage. UCK! I felt I deserved a reward after my shower) 😉 and all it took was one fleeting thought of my super-hot Dr. McHotterson to take me over the edge. Almost instantly.
Oooh. La. La!