Why I'm Going to Be Toofless

(Holy crap - I have another new follower! I'm up to 2 now! Thank you ladies, both of you, for the validation! Because, like, I'm pathetic in that way.)

Yesterday, I tried out a new dentist. I haven't seen one since the week before I got married. I know, I know, that's not only disgusting, but pretty fucking sad, all at the same time. But, y'all know my financial situation, and until now, there was just no way.

Well, apparently, I still am not going to get clean teeth.

The office looked way too modern and expensive but, like a fool, I thought: "Well, they take my insurance, so how expensive can it be? My co-pay's the same no matter which office I use." Ha, ha, you silly little fool!

X-rays were taken, tongue studs and 15-bajillion tiny hoop earrings were removed. Toofes were poked at by long-handled pokey things. Many grunts and "mmmm-hmmm"s were heard by hygienist. I got to see my whole effing mouth in panorama on a Dell flat-screen above my head in the faux-suede chair.

And then, I got an estimate for the cleaning.

It was over $1300. For MY out-of-pocket costs. The cleaning itself was only about $20 for each row of teeth which, somehow, they factored out at 4.

So, where does the rest come in, you ask? Well, that would have to be the $300 per 'row of teeth' they charge for some cockamamie laser bacteria reduction bullshit. Now, I don't know about you, but I know that all the years I've ever had my teeth cleaned, if I had waited a little bit too long and needed a deep cleaning and the dentist was worried about bacteria, he would write me a script for antibiotics about a week ahead of the procedure. Then, *BAM*, no illness. Besides, I'm already living with that shit in my mouth now, and they suck most of it out when they scrape it off! So, seriously. WTF?

When they gave that to me, I literally laughed out loud, told them there was no way in Hell that this estimate was do-able for me and that it was time for me to leave. They told me to wait, that they have financial experts available to help me make some decisions.

Okay. Fine. Send in the hot dentist so he can figure out what the fuck else is wrong with me, mmm-kay?

So Hot Dentist comes in (love the v-neck scrubs with nakedness underneath, btw), and pokes around some more and informs me that I have two old fillings from adolescence that need to be replaced, and I have two new cavities that need to be filled. Whoo-hoo! So you're, like, what? Going to want one full ovary? Can do. Trust me.

Well, they come back with another estimate, this time adding in the 4 filling information. Guess how much extra THAT added on?

Only $224. Yep. You read that right. A regular cleaning was going to set me back the same amount as if I were going to buy a clean-condition 1991 Geo Storm wagon with high mileage, but the FILLINGS are only going to cost me as much I would save with only 30K miles on said Geo Storm?

So, what they were telling me was that I needed somewhere around $1600 to get my teeth worked on. They also made this into an emergency status type deal where my teeth would likely fall out in the next 48 hours if I didn't cut them a check right that very moment.

At this point, I was beyond tears and starting to get angry. They sensed my volatility and sent in the relief pitcher, a very calming woman with a low voice and a habit of calling me "luv," which is, like, THE most annoying thing on God's green Earth. But still, she made it nearly impossible for me to chop her head off with my sharp, pokey words.

Instead, I plainly told her that if they weren't going to do just the cleaning, without the fancy "lasers," (hee!) then I wasn't going to have them do any work on me at all. I also mentioned that I knew damned well they didn't need my business, but that I would be plenty happy to talk smack about this dentist's office  in SUGAR LAND, TEXAS any time I got a chance, since they were being ridiculously inflexible and refusing to do what the patient wanted, even though millions of offices do it across the country. I guaran-fucking-tee my mom doesn't pay $1300 for her fucking cleanings, and her dentist is awesome. And I know she doesn't let them stick lasers in her mouth.

Here's the part that really pisses me off: I went to a very expensive, private university. I went to that very expensive, private university with this dentist's daughter, Heather. We were in education classes together. I liked her. She was as cute as a bug, smart, funny and, obviously, had nice teeth. I know NOW why the Daddy Dentist (not to be confused with Hot Dentist!) had no problem with his precious darling becoming a scummy old teacher with a pittance of an allowance as a salary: because he's too busy lasering people's gums for fun and profit. He'll always be there to bail her out of financial distress.

Of course, with Heather being as awesome as she is, she probably won a full-ride scholarship to my university, and probably married some fantastic, insanely gorgeous man with equally as gorgeous teeth who makes just oodles and oodles of money and she'd never HAVE to work a day in her life because they're rich, but she does it anyway because she just truly loves kids and helping people. Don't perfect women like that just make you sick?! LOL!

After my near-reaming of the relief pitcher finance lady, I left with my "goodie bag," (are you fucking kidding me?) with toothpaste, floss, and a toothbrush. They were probably saying, "Good luck, bitch...you'll need this shit if you want any hope or prayer at all! LOL!" And I went home. And cried the whole way there.

I called The Boy as soon as I got in the car. He was already at home. When I tried to tell him what had happened, he was short and snippy and wouldn't let me finish my sentences because he kept asking questions that would have been answered if he would just shut the fuck up. But he didn't, and I ended up hanging up on him in a rage.

And called Scott instead.

Oh, like you didn't know.

But it's okay. I've decided he's probably the one I'll end up with. See, he's from deep East Texas, so he's totally used to hot, young people with no teeth. And banjos. And cousins who also double as spouses. So I guess it can't be true love with us, since we're not related, but at least I know he won't cringe at the sight of my inflamed, toothless gums. Yee-haw.