Let Me See Them Fillings!

Today I have to go to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned.
I am not excited.
I've been going to the same dentist for, oh, five years now and I still don't like it.
But I keep going there because I'm comfortable there.
I'm very routine-y and the serial killers that follow me around waiting for their perfect opportunity to knock me off know it.
Very routine-y.
There's just something about going to the dentist.
I know its a necessary thing, and I want my teeth to keep being just as beautiful as they are.
Its not the pain.
Although I do twinge a little when she's scrapin' away and make little "oh! I'm in agony!" sounds when she goes a little too far.
Its not the wondering if I'm going to have any cavities.
I drink a lot of milk.
A LOT of milk.
Its not the waiting in the waiting room with all the little kids bouncing around.
Everyone that works there is super friendly.
But I hate Hate HATE having to lie there on my back in that weird chair with my mouth hanging wide open while some old lady with a funky too-young-for-her hairdo, too many holes in her ears, and clown makeup scrapes away my plaque that plagues and spits all over my face while she yells at somebody in the other room.
I think my biggest hangup with this scenario is the whole "lying on my back" part.
I feel vulnerable in that position.
I feel like anything I don't want to happen to me could happen to me while I'm lying on my back with my mouth wide open.
Can't some genius design a different chair so I don't have to lay suppine?!
Do you hate the dentist too?
Why?
P.S. The title for this post was brought to you courtesy of the nasty old perverted fart I saw at Burger King last year. Apparently, that's his line of choice for picking up super hot babes that work the counter. Ugh.