Usually, when someone goes to the dentist, they worry about things like cavities and gingivitis and whether they will be shamed for not flossing enough.

For me, it's the toilet paper.

I didn't actually realize this would be something of concern until I ducked into the bathroom before my appointment. As I wrapped things up and went to grab some toilet paper, I gasped with horror. The TP was hanging the wrong way.

And by the wrong way, I mean of course, under, rather than over.

"WHAT KIND OF PERSON HANGS THEIR TOILET PAPER UNDER?!" I yelled through the door, dumbfounded. Suddenly, everything I knew about my dentist was thrown into question. If he could knowingly hang the toilet paper the wrong way, what else was he capable of?

I tried to move past this crime against humanity and grabbed a wad of toilet paper. But then I gasped in horror. It was the wrong kind of toilet paper.

And by wrong kind, I mean one-ply, rather than two.

"WHAT KIND OF PERSON WOULD BUY ONE-PLY TOILET PAPER FOR HIS PATIENTS, RATHER THAN TWO?!" I yelled through the door, incredulously. Why did one-ply even exist? Anyone would need Novocaine just to deal with the discomfort of using scratchy one-ply down there. I shook my head.

"You're making a good living, dude," I yelled through the door. "Spring for the extra ply!"

Sitting on the throne in the dentist's bathroom, I realized there was nothing I could do about the fact that the TP was only one-ply. But in one deft move, I yanked the rod out of the toilet paper holder and flipped the roll so the paper was hanging over rather than under. Unfortunately, as I went to put it back in place, I dropped the toilet paper onto the floor where it rolled under the sink and into a puddle of water.

I looked around the bathroom and then gasped in horror. There were no extra rolls of toilet paper anywhere.

"WHAT KIND OF PERSON ONLY KEEPS ONE ROLL OF TOILET PAPER IN THEIR BATHROOM?!" I shouted through the door in frustration.

Hoping there was maybe one or two dry one-ply sheets left on the roll under the sink, I reached over to get it. Realizing half of the toilet paper was wet, I ripped the soggy part off, threw it into the toilet, and flushed. But as I waited for it to stop flushing, it became clear I had clogged the toilet.

I looked around the bathroom to find a plunger, and I gasped. There was no plunger in the bathroom.

"WHAT KIND OF PERSON DOESN'T KEEP A PLUNGER IN THE BATHROOM?!" I shouted through the door in despair.

I was about to cut my losses, hide the evidence and air-dry my nether regions when suddenly, I heard a knock on the door.

"Is everything OK in there, Mrs. Beckerman?" came a worried voice through the door.

"Yes," I said. "But tell the dentist he needs a plunger, a new roll of toilet paper and some laughing gas in the bathroom."

Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller, "Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble," available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online! You can visit her at www.tracybeckerman.com.

Photo credit: StockSnap at Pixabay