Chomp, chomp I go to the dentist. It's really quite simple. I go so I won't lose my teeth. I really like my teeth. They look good right where they are. Don't want 'em in my hand or anything like that. As I sit here eating my carrots, I'm thankful for my teeth. These are the teeth that a dentist once told me I'd lose by the time I was 30 if I didn't start taking care of them. Now in my defense, it wasn't really my fault. I didn't have any insurance when I was in high school and college, so I could never just plunk myself down into the dentist's chair. Then one day, David and I were at a friend's house having dinner. And my back tooth broke. And it made me horribly panicky. I remember exactly what we were eating. It's a chicken, stuffing and cheese casserole that my friend's mom makes. It's so good. I have the recipe for it, but I cannot make it because the thought of it reminds me how I felt when my tooth broke. My mom took me to a dentist. I had to have that tooth pulled. But here's where I got super lucky. It was my very back tooth (on the left, if you care) and I still had my wisdom teeth. (Imagine.) So it worked out because 1. I would still have a tooth there. And we've already established my love of teeth. and 2. When I did have my wisdom teeth taken out (probably 6 years after that), I they only had to take three instead of four. It was the best I could have hoped for. But that day at the dentist wasn't good. I had to go several times, but one of the first visits is seared into my brain for. ever. He told me that one of my front teeth needed a root canal or I was going to lose that one too. One of my front teeth. (Not the two biggest ones, but the one, yep, on the left again, right next to the big one.) And that if I didn't take better care of my teeth, I wouldn't have any in a couple years. I went back to the car, where David was waiting for me burst into tears. I think I cried for a half hour before I could even tell him what had happened. I didn't want to think about it, let alone say it out loud. No insurance. And needing serious dental work. My dad paid for all of it, and let me tell you, it wasn't a pretty number. Anyway, that's why I go to the dentist every six months now. And she has never once told me that my teeth were going to fall out. I have a feeling that dentist told me that to scare the bejesus out of me. Worked like a charm.