listening with my mouth full

What the ... ? Wednesday, as I was contributing once again to my dentist's children's college fund, I was the captive audience to my hygenist's subtle attempt to "help" me with my "weight problem." Oh, she didn't say so in so many words; rather, she told me the details of a television show she recently watched, wherein some doctor was attributing all of humanity's ills to fungus. Everything from hangnails to cancer is apparently caused by fungus, according to this program. And of course, the key to vital health is to follow this TV doctor's dietary recommendations. There's probably a book to buy, too, and a custom line of supplements that ensure the health of the doctor's bank account, if not of his followers.

Now, I won't argue that I'd be better off if I kept my hand out of the cookie jar more often, but being subjected to a thinly veiled critique of my size when I was unable to respond, well, that's just foul play! I suppose it could have been worse: The hygenist could have just as easily been telling me about the last episode of Glenn Beck that she watched (now there's a fungus that needs eradication!), could've told me that she'd pray for my receding gums, or could have tried to pitch a tooth-whitening treatment. And even if I didn't have my mouth full, who wants to argue with someone who's armed with sharp pointy metal things?

I suppose the incident will have at least one benefit. I'm going to brush and floss five times a day from now on, so that I have to spend as little time as possible in that woman's chair next visit!