an open letter to my dental hygienist

Dear my dental hygienist (sorry, I don’t have anything better to call you),

I’m not going to lie; as it stands, I already really hate coming to the dentist.  Well, I doubt anyone really enjoys the dentist, but for me, it’s like a torture chamber.  I have this thing about metal against my teeth, like a nails-on-chalkboard cringe-y feeling (I avoid biting my forks and spoons for this very reason), so I’m sure you can understand my distaste.  Also, I apparently have really weak enamel (I’m a very diligent brusher, promise!), because every time I come to the dentist, y’all are like, “You have 300,000 cavities!  Guess you might as well move in here for the next few weeks while we freeze your mouth and drill your teeth out of your head!”

Anyway.  I should get to the point of this letter, which has little to do with my predisposed dislike for those in the dental profession. Continue reading “an open letter to my dental hygienist”

an open letter to the girl who sat behind me in lecture last week

Dear girl who sat behind me in 18th Century Literature and Culture,

I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. Well, it’s possible you at least know who I am, and think I am an annoying keener, because I tend to participate in class discussion frequently, unlike you and your band of sniggering gossip girls. I don’t usually sit in that spot, but when some dude who never comes to class decided to take my usual seat, I was forced to choose somewhere else. That is how I came to be in front of you. Continue reading “an open letter to the girl who sat behind me in lecture last week”