To my dentist:

I hate you.

I know hate is a strong word. That’s why I used it. You betrayed me. You told me that I wouldn’t feel pain. You left me broken and bleeding. How could you? I trusted you. My insurance trusted you. Now, I am burdened with finding yet another person to take care of my pearly whites.

“Do you floss?” No, I thought that was your job.

“Do you brush for two minutes twice a day?” If I had two minutes to spare in my busy schedule, they most certainly would not be spent brushing my teeth. I have bigger fish to fry.

“You have another cavity.” Cool. Great. Awesome.

You didn’t even BOTHER to properly numb me when you filled my cavities. I felt everything. I felt that stupid little drill, I felt those sharp, pointy needles you jammed into my gums, and I felt your massive hands trying to pry my mouth open.

You promised me that it would be OK. Once again, I trusted you. I’m too terrified to come back to your office and sit in that dreaded chair. I’m sure you’d say I have a lot of cavities, but I won’t be getting them filled by you.

My teeth aren’t even that bad. You just wanted my money. Dentist, you put me in pain just to earn a few extra bucks. How do you sleep at night with that on your conscience?

I’m not sorry to say it, but I’m moving on. I’m moving on to someone who will gas me up and numb me like there’s no tomorrow. I’m moving on to someone who won’t try to have a full-fledged conversation with me when their hands are in my mouth. I’m moving on and never looking back.

I did want to say thank you. Thank you for showing your true colors. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to leave your practice and find someone else. I’m going to find someone who will treat me better.

Sincerely,

A girl who probably didn’t have as many cavities as you said I did because I brush my teeth at least five times a day.