This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at MSU chapter.
I hate going to the dentist.
They ask too many questions then roll their eyes when I answer;
Dusty red fingertips, orange stained tongues,
fluorescent wrappers colored my childhood.
Crinkling bags my dinner bell,
lemon cookies and everfresh our meal,
My place was always set in mama’s bed.
The Kool-Aid colored smiles
Shared between the two of us
Rotted my teeth but nurtured our bond
Our laughs like vanilla on my aching teeth
Not much else mattered
When the ingredient list was the recipe to easy Saturday mornings.