Bizarre Dietitian Ideas

I go to see the doctor pretty regularly. We have a nice routine. He checks my weight and suggests I lose some. He then asks me some questions and I'm on my way as a happy man.

Recently, I had a bit of a different experience. He took blood and some other types of bodily samples that make me believe those who work in testing laboratories are vastly underpaid. A few days later, he asked me to come in for a follow-up consultation. I had no idea anything could be wrong. I thought he might want to get some more of my books for his waiting room.

So, I arrived for my follow-up consult with a box of my books thinking this is going to be a quick trip. I never imagined it could have been something wrong. The doctor came in and sat down with a bit of a serious expression.

“Our test results have shown you need to change a few things in your life if you want to remain healthy,” he said.

I began to feel very confused. It was like he had just told me I was conceived as a test tube baby on another plant.

“What types of changes? What are you talking about? If you want more books for your waiting room just ask me.”

“Your blood pressure is getting higher, your blood sugar is getting too high, and if things don't change some things, you're going to have to take some serious medication.”

I hate taking any kind of medication. I'm the type of person who wants the pharmaceutical industry to invent an aspirin patch. This way I wouldn't have to swallow pills when I have a headache.

“What type of changes are we talking about?” I asked.

That's when my doctor said a dirty little four-letter word that both shocked and horrified me.

“You need to change your diet.”

He had finally used the “D” word on me. I had avoided thinking about such things for most of my life. I was finally confronted by the “D” word, and it was thrust upon me by a member of the medical profession.

“Is there a patch I can put on my skin for this?”

For some reason, he laughed and told me he was setting me up for a consultation with a dietitian.

My wife handled the news of my impending diet with her usual care and concern. She started laughing.

“Why are you laughing? This is my health. I suppose you expect me to suffer the indignities of a diet. They probably want me to spend what remaining years I have left in this world grazing with bovines in a field. Is that what you find funny?”

My wife leaves the room without saying a word and just smiling. I think she went and put sensors on the saltshaker, so it yells, “Stay away from the saltshaker, I repeat, stay away from the saltshaker or I'll tell your doctor.”

This, of course, would then be followed by the sound of her laughing. I envisioned my wife enjoying my diet so much she would gladly repel out of a helicopter, burst into our house with an assault rifle, and yell, “Put down the piece of chocolate cake and back away from it slowly. I'm not going to say it twice. Do it now.”

I finally met with the dietitian. She was an extremely perky person who smiled quite a bit and left me with the impression she may be possessed.

She smiled and pointed at me and said, “Oh, Mr. K, you've been a bit naughty with the food intake. That's okay because we're going to get you back on the right track so you can be happy and a healthy man,”

I sat there wondering what would happen if I threw holy water at her and held a cross in front of her face. She then told me that everything I loved eating I could now eat only a spoonful of per day. I must have been looking pretty depressed because she gave me a perky smile and in a happy tone said, “Look at the bright side. You can have all the salt-free rice cakes you want.”

Was this supposed to make me happy? Salt-free rice cakes are nothing less than Styrofoam packing peanuts squeezed into small disk form. This is like offering a drowning man a cup of water. I started wondering if I knew any exorcists who may be able to help this girl.

I decided to give the diet a try. At first, I felt like an addict going through withdrawal. In time, I adjusted and ate more fruits and vegetables and canceled my subscription to the beer and Mexican food club. We were always so proud when we were asked to leave an all-you-can-eat buffet because they couldn't afford us. Good times.

I eventually returned to my physician. I had lost a good amount of weight. Tests revealed everything was now in the normal range. That was the good news. I had to maintain the diet was the bad news. My wife sometimes gets angry when she gets to work and discovers the only thing, she has to eat is salt-free rice cakes. When she asks me why I did such a thing, I simply smile and say, “The dietitian made me do it.”