Dear Neti Pot Lady

Neti Lady Dear Neti Pot Lady,

Yes, I mean you. The one who looks like Naomi Watts. You, with your flawless skin, perfectly shaped eyebrows, and blonde tresses. Don’t play coy with me. You inhabit the instructions of my brand new Neti Pot. And, you have destroyed my life.

I resisted your advances when I got a sinus infection. My doctor suggested I rendezvous with you. She said she you would help me maintain my sinus health, so she wouldn’t have to pump me full of drugs like a medical version of Hans and Franz. But, she was only my doctor. My dad’s a doctor. He said an apple a day would keep her away. But, I got sick anyway. So why should I believe her? She’s not even related to me. She probably cut a deal with big pharma and was trying reverse psychology on me.  

Yes, I resisted you. Until my yoga instructor told me that Neti should be part of my yoga practice. He sold me on the spiritual side of yoga, the cleansing side of yoga. Liam convinced me of the need for clean sinus passages to deepen my ujjayi breath. He’s the man who’s helping me perfect my pigeon and crow. Plus, he’s super hot and when he’s not teaching yoga he’s an actor. How could you be named Liam and not be hot? So, of course, I believed him.  

I ordered my Neti pot and paid extra for next day delivery. I even got the Himalayan sea salts Liam recommended. The Himalayas run through Nepal, which is next to Tibet, which is where the Dalai Lama is from. So, I knew I would be supercharging my chakras. I got a new outfit at Lululemon, a Rasa CD, and herbal tea at Whole Foods. And, I invited Liam over to Neti with me.

I wanted our first time to be special, a night we would look back on and remember. Sitting on our futon couch surrounded by pictures of us reading Deepak Chopra to our grandchildren, he would pull me in, kiss me deeply, and say, “Remember our first Neti, my love?”

We drank our green tea, with “Temple of Love” playing in the background. I listened while Liam told me about taking yoga classes with Patrick Beach in Aruba. Sting and Russell Brand were there. Plus, Patrick has 275,000 Instagram followers, so you know he’s good.   

Then, I gave Liam that come hither look, just like in your picture. I used my most sultry voice to ask him, “Are you ready to Neti?” Side by side, we bent over the double sink in my kitchen. My heart was pounding. I could feel moistness in my Lululemons. Any moment, that isotonic Himalayan salt solution would flow gracefully out of my classically hollowed sinuses, exactly like you in the picture, a vision of Aphrodite herself. And, Liam would be mine forever.

But you betrayed me, Mata Hari! The salt water ran into one sinus and down my throat. I choked and sputtered, spewing spittle all over my Corian sink. Sputum ran out my nose and drool ran down my chin. Liam recoiled in horror, realizing that I was not a spiritual yoga goddess but a Neti neophyte. Without a word, he walked out.

You have ruined my life, Neti pot lady. I have lost the love of my life. I can never show my face in yoga class again. My doctor will have to continue to poison my body with drugs whenever I am sick. I have lost faith in everything I thought to be good and true in the world. Thanks to you, I will turn into a fat, arthritic, bitter old spinster.

Yours truly,

Gretchen Martens

Gretchen Martens is a DCH graduate who performs with Been There Done That and Brain Wearing Pants. When she’s not working as an executive coach and trainer, she writes satire for her blog www.PotatoNationUSA.com. She is finishing her first play, sanINity, an irreverent look at losing a loved one to mental illness.