My inner monologue when going to the dentist:
You're a grown up. You can handle this. it's not actually painful. Stop whimpering. the doctor hasn't done anything yet.
How am I supposed to handle real life pain if I can't handle a novacaine shot? Like if I ever had to get a surgery. Or have a child?
Averill,You're a grown up. Those noises are just a stranger drilling a hole into your precious teeth. AH!
ok, stop crying. there isn't actually any pain--your mouth is numb.
ugh. your mouth is numb. Don't accidentally bite your tongue!
you can't. your mouth is wired open right now.
this is the worst. I hate this person shaving away my enamel right now. I hate you! I'm sorry, Doctor, I don't really hate you. you're just doing your job. but if you could hurry up this process that'd be great.
By the time they finally release me, they treat me like some sort of war hero: "You did so great in that chair.. How you feeling?...You made it out amazingly...Way to stick in there."
A) Did I have a choice? Could I have been... bad in the chair somehow? B) I'm sure they don't feel the need to validate all their patients--just the small children, and the pathetic adults like myself. C) Ya! I did stick in there! I only mildly cried, and only twice. I should get a medal.
And then I get home, hide in a corner until the novacaine wears off and I can smile like a human, and promise myself I'll floss every night for the rest of my life so I never have to go back to the 10th circle of hell again.
