I’m going “long in the tooth,” which is a metaphor for aging, because your gums recede as you get older and your teeth seem to grow deeper into your head and reveal portions of themselves formerly hidden. Now that I’m long in the tooth I can reveal the truth – I hate dentists. I hate being constrained in the dentist’s chair, strapped in by tubes running into your mouth with the dentist looming over you. I hate the uncomfortable position they make you assume –  head too far back, poor leverage making escape difficult – there’s no way you can get out of this unless you are willing to make a huge scene and reveal yourself to be a coward.  When I am in the dentist chair I close my eyes and run a beautiful scenario through my mind. I see myself ripping the tubes out of my mouth, kicking the dentist in the groin, and sweeping all the implements onto the floor. Then I leap out of the chair and scream “F&*(* You” except my lips are numb so it comes out “Fuboo” while saliva dribbles down my chin. But they know what I mean, and then I run from the room and sweep past the receptionist and all the other poor souls trapped in the waiting room. And I never ever go back to the dentist again. I’m a grown-up now. They can’t make me.