I Fired My Dentist

[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]

Not because she’s a bad person, but because she’s a terrible dentist.

I started seeing her about three years ago, when I moved to a new city in a new state, got a big girl job, and finally had good insurance. I hadn’t seen a dentist in over a year, my ex-fiancé, meanwhile, refused to see a dentist ever. So, like the good little rule follower I was, I set an example by booking an appointment with the first dentist that popped up on my list of preferred providers that Delta conveniently sent my way via carrier pigeon.

The first thing my new dentist did was take x-rays, which showed a slight overbite that was slowly wearing away one of my front-ish teeth. She seemed shocked, “We need to get this fixed right away. Have you ever had braces?”

I had not. Each dentist I’d seen in my 25 years of life had always told me I have perfect teeth. “Well, you have this cross bite, which we can fix with a variety of options. You’ll need braces, I’d recommend these clear ones since they’re less noticeable than the normal metal kind.”

I was not having it. “What about invisiline?” I queried, cautiously because I wasn’t sure if I could trust her yet.

“That’s an option too,” she told me, “though it’s a tad more expensive. I’d say we can straighten these out…