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.
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Crinkling bags my dinner bell,
lemon cookies and everfresh our meal,
My place was always set in mama’s bed.
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The Kool-Aid colored smiles
Shared between the two of us Â
Rotted my teeth but nurtured our bond
Our laughs like vanilla on my aching teethÂ
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Not much else matteredÂ
When the ingredient list was the recipe to easy Saturday mornings.