Mrs. Mouthy’s Chi

I went to a nutritionist yesterday about some really nasty canker sores and now I need a new coat.

It’s like this: I’ve been dealing with some truly terrible canker sores lately. Actually, it started about 10 years ago when toothpaste began making my mouth explode in canker sores. I switched toothpastes and life went back to normal.

Fast forward a few years and suddenly artificial sweeteners started causing riots of canker sores in my mouth, so I stopped drinking diet soda. It was crazy hard. There should be an AA thing for people who have to give up diet soda.

Fast forward to last year and coffee started doing it. Coffee. Even one sip of coffee turns my mouth into a battle ground. Two sips and my tongue swells up as an encore.

This was bad, guys. This was really bad.

And now, as of last week, my mouth can’t handle citrus fruits, pineapple, or tomatoes. I have become one of those people who sends you a list of foods I can’t eat if you invite me over to dinner. Which you probably won’t.

So, yeah. Canker sores are stupid. My mouth is stupid.

I told my dentist and doctor about the canker sores. They looked in my mouth and said, “Huh.”

So I decided to go to a nutritionist.

I had never been to a nutritionist before and thought it would kind of be like a doctor’s appointment, minus the lab coat, plus some smelly candles.

Instead, by the end of the 90 minutes, I found myself naked on a massage table with needles in my ears, having my channels opened and my chi put back in place.  (Before you get the wrong idea, I was naked underneath a blanket.)

Bless her, I think this nutritionist was as surprised by me as I was of her.

She kept saying she didn’t want to do anything that made me uncomfortable. Absolutely everything that happened next made me uncomfortable. Like when she said she wanted to stick needles in my  ears. I told her I was uncomfortable. I was very uncomfortable! She held my feet and said some calming words and then asked if I felt more comfortable now and I said, “Just do it. Just do it and don’t tell me about it.” So she did.

As I lay there, wondering what I looked like with needles poking out of my ears, she told me to access my childhood Rachel. “Ask her what Little Rachel wants.” Then she wanted me to tell her what Little Rachel, so I answered truthfully that Little Rachel said she wanted a scoop of Rainbow Sherbet. We had an awkward convo about Rainbow Sherbet vs Daiquiri Ice while the she worked to reverse the flow of energy in my body so my canker sores would go away.

Then she said, “Your eyes are very open,” because I guess most people close their eyes when other people start sticking needles into their ears, and she asked what I was thinking about now. I told her there was this really cool bump on her ceiling that I was thinking about, because that’s what I was thinking about. She told me maybe I should close my eyes for a bit.

Then I started thinking about this  creepy date I had in college where I knew within two minutes of showing up to the guy’s house that I had made a mistake, but I politely stayed for dinner—and also to because neither of us had a car and his roommate with a car was supposed to be there but for some totally legit reason was not. Then, due to a miscommunication, he ended up trying to give me a massage, at which point I remembered BUSES! There are BUSES that go by here! And I high-tailed it out.

Anyway, this kind of felt like that. Only substitute “massage” with “needles.”

Kevin asked me if I’ll be going back to the nutritionist and I told him if I ended up naked and with needles sticking out all over my body on our first date, I can’t even imagine what would happen on our second date. No; I won’t be going back.


Except that she called an hour after the appointment to say I had left my coat there and I could come by in the next hour to pick it up.

At which point I came to the conclusion, which, if you remember, was also the introduction of this post:

It’s time to get a new coat.

(And also to see an allergist, who I hope  to goodness is wearing a lab coat when I show up.)

Corned beef
Baked Potatoes
Chocolate mint chip cake

2 thoughts on “Mrs. Mouthy’s Chi

  1. Sounds pretty suspicious. If I went to see somebody to have them look at my mouth and they told me to remove all of my clothes I’d nope the heck out of there. Ain’t nobody touching my chakras without my permission.

  2. If you wanted to talk food sensitivities, girrrrrl! Why didn’t you call me?!?! Get some lysine and shot me an email already.

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