Twice a year I find myself engaged in one of the most uncomfortable activities known to man or womanhood—getting my teeth cleaned.  Even though my head knows that it is something that has to be done in order to remain healthy, I find myself fighting over the very idea of making that trip to my dentist’s office.  It would seem more normal to say that I don’t want to go because I’m afraid of the drill, or that I’d just rather jam a toothpick in my gums rather than bite on that obnoxious piece of plastic when I’m taking x-rays,…