I am very sorry that I cry at every appointment, causing you and all your staff eye me warily the minute I come in like I'm some kind of fierce wild animal trapped in a dentist chair. I'm sorry that I roll my eyes at you, grimace, and talk back to you. It's how I handle fear. I'm sorry I keep my ipod in at all times and don't listen when you tell me to open my mouth wider. I need something to distract me from the ordeal; I hope you understand. Also, I just can't open my mouth that wide. I'm sorry I got mad at you for hurting me when you were just trying to clean my teeth. I am, however, still mad at you for giving me a shot in the roof of my mouth without warning. That hurt BAD and I don't regret trying to paw it out of your hand before I realized what was going on. I'm also still mad at you for not finishing what you started. Stuffing my cavity with what feels like already-chewed gum and telling me to come back in two weeks is not what I pay you for. Also, you might try believing me when I tell you things. It's my mouth, after all.
I'm sorry I keep changing my mind about orthodontia; but don't worry, I'll stop changing my mind as soon as you stop changing the price. I'm sorry I am usually rude to the very kind ladies that work in your office. I'm sorry I hate you so much -- I hope it's not too obvious. It's just that there's something about the powder from my own enamel filling the air that makes me want to bite your hand.
So I guess I'm trying to say thanks for fixing my teeth. I just wanted to you know that I don't think you're the devil anymore.
Love,
Maria
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