The Wizard

Dear Dr. Oz,

I love watching you get excited about gory entrails and such. I love your sincerity and directness. I believed what you told that woman about soaking her stinky feet in tea. I listened to her testimonial and that of her roommate. I believed it so much that I took my Mormon self to the store and bought some "bad tea", explaining to my son in the grocery store that while it is against our religion to drink it, it is okay to soak one's feet in it. For the good of our entire little household. I believed it so much I have steeped a vat of tea almost nightly, in which my husband dutifully soaks his feet. I'm not yet prepared to bear testimony. His feet still stink. Yet, I'm not ready to stop making him tea. It's only been a few nights.

Please Dr. Oz, do not let your shining star fall from Oprah's galaxy. Her last doctoral liaison has come to such great disappointment. I was so excited to watch Dr. Phil jump to his own show. I watched episode after episode with so much enthusiasm. I found myself talking to him and all the strange people who chose to air their dirty laundry on that neutral-hued stage. It was many months before I realized that he'd become Jerry Springer. The calming decor and the gentle twang fooled me. Once bitten, twice shy Dr. Oz. Please, do not disappoint me.

Oh, and please don't be wrong about the tea.