Chapendra (flickr)

You can’t expect to build a healthy life on a crumbling tower of Doritos. So I shouldn’t expect people to listen to me preach about natural healing if I’m a closet Cool Ranch junkie, right?

But what might be even more disturbing than this doctor’s Doritos habit is my reluctance to come out.

So here goes.

I had just set up my practice in Wakefield, RI, back in the fall of 2000. I was so bummed that I couldn’t find any “good” food at the local Stop & Shop—only nitrite-filled sausages, non-organic strawberries, breads made with high fructose corn syrup. And Doritos. Well, that’s okay, because Doritos were going in my cart no matter what. But not on top, where they might be seen. No, no. These puppies lived on the bottom of the buggy, carefully arranged and protected so as not to be spotted, and especially not damaged.

What the heck was I going to say to that patient in aisle 2 that I saw last week in my office? “Well, we certainly can’t start throwing a bunch of supplements on top of a diet built on a foundation of Doritos, right?” Seriously? Had those words actually passed my lips? And now she might see me, Cool Ranch Doritos stowed carefully below, only to never believe another word out of my mouth.

No, you’re right Dr. B. You certainly can’t expect to build a healthy life upon a pile of Doritos crumbs. And you also can’t expect people to listen to you if they think that you can’t relate to them.

Well, I can do more than relate. Heck. Next time I see you, aisle 2, we’re splitting a bag of Doritos. No. Make that a bag for each of us.