I brush my teeth and look in the mirror and laugh out loud. As I'm beaming from ear to ear, I'd rather pick flowers instead of fights. I'd rather flaunt style. I'd flash you a smile of clean pearly whites.
I've been to the dentist a thousand times, so I know the drill. I smooth my hair, sit back in the chair, and some how I still get the chills.
"Have a seat," he says pleasantly, as he shakes my hand and practically laughs at me. "Open up nice and wide," he says peering in. And with a smirk he says "Don't have a fit, this will just pinch a bit..." as he tries not to grin.
Talking only brings the toothaches on because I say the stupidest things. So if my resolve goes south, I swallow my pride with asprin and shut my mouth.
Cough and alcohol don't mix, and that's why I don't drink and drive. Because, good grief, I'd knock out my teeth and have to kiss my smile goodbye!
:-D
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