When I was little, I grew up on the ranch with my uncles, my dad and my grandparents telling me that doctors were bad. Dietitians, dentists, surgeons, they were all horrible people. So, after my parents got divorced, my step-mom (she was still only my step-parent because the adoption papers had yet to go through) took my siblings and I to the dentist. For the first time, ever.
I was scared shitless. I thought that I was going to go in and get medicated and have all my teeth pulled. My grandma Tina (my dad’s mom) had got to the dentist only a few months before that for a root canal, and she was still recovering, and that was what my fear was based on. Anyway, the receptionist saw that I was starting to panic and called me over.
She asked how old I was, what my favorite color was, the generic questions you ask little kids. She asked if I had ever been to a dentist before, and I said no. Then, she asked if I flossed, and I said no. She asked why not, and not know the real answer, I told her that we could afford it.
As you can imagine, she laughed her head off. Then she asked if we couldn’t afford floss, how were we able to afford this trip to the dentist? I told her, “Insurance.”
Long story short, I will never live down the fact that my mom can’t afford floss. (Plot twist: She can afford two things of floss. lol)