Friday, April 13, 2012

Green vinyl sofas and antiseptic smell

The light was blinding me, and involuntarily, I closed my eyes. She held a long shiny instrument in her hand, behind her plain sterile mask, I could have sworn that she was grinning.

In fact, I wouldn't have been surprised if she had two long incisors too that glinted in the dark.

Or maybe not.

Her assistant shoved a long tube in my mouth that robbed me of the ability to speak, and by that time, I was truly terrified. In order to gain some sort of moral support, I looked over at my father (I'm still a child even though I may be eighteen!) but he was flicking through a gardening magazine.

Fathers, I tell you.

The assistant loomed over me and the single squeak of dissent that I emitted did not seem to register with either of them. With a satisfied smirk, he moved away.

I shut my eyes, and as the whirring contraption drew near, my hands grabbed my own jeans in an effort to brave it out and not run away screaming bloody murder.
The ordeal lasted for half an hour and by the end of it, I was too tired to protest anymore.

Her assistant shut the light, and pushed away the evil arm of the chair. I jumped out, a bit unsteady on my feet.

She looked over at me and said, "You need to take better care of your teeth." (It was bound to happen. I am irrevocably in love with choclates, ice cream and pani puri.)

I smiled, showing off the newly-filled cavity and said 'Thank you!' and before she could ask me to confirm my next appointment at the desk, I hightailed it out of there.

It would have worked, had I been alone.

But my Father went over to the desk and got me an appointment for Monday. He read magazine the entire time, took another appointment(I mean, come on!)and sat behind me as I rode the bike because his arms were aching. He did offer me ice cream, I guess, a tradition from when I was ten, but I was still too miffed so I refused.

So on Monday, I'll be sitting on those green vinyl sofas, amidst howling children and greying geriatrics who have come for their dentures, waiting for my turn and hoping to get over the worst as soon as possible.

1 comment:

  1. I'm sorry, as much as I hate dentists, this was funny. :)

    ReplyDelete