Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Muppets take my mouth ...

Our upstairs bathroom is set up in such a way that if you are seated on the toilet and opt to leave the door open, you will find your knees pressed against a full-length mirror.

I was in this position on Monday night during a mid-movie bathroom break. I leaned forward and stuck out my tongue, ala Gene Simmons, and noticed some darkness near the back of the old licker. I thought maybe it was a shadow or a trick of the lights, so I flushed and shifted myself and the mirror into better lighting. True story. The back of my tongue was dark brown.

"I feel like I've heard of this happening," I thought to myself and wandered back to the bedroom, where Chuck was eyeballs deep in Japanese Comedy Horror.

I furtively grabbed my iPhone and Googled "Black tongue" and began scrolling through the information eventually settling in to read about it on the Mayo Clinic's website.



Then I segued into the causes, a charming little list that read more like my horoscope: Tobacco use, long-term dosage of antibiotics (I think we're on month six here), use of Pepto-Bismol (why, I'd just crunched away on two PB pellets earlier in the day to combat a lingering stomach ache).

Curiosity led me to images of the affliction, which look like something out of Muppet porn. Elongated tongues with a hairy growth, a sort of tongue goatee. This pink meaty flesh finally ready to leave the nest.

"I have to tell you something," I told Chuck. "I have Black, Hairy Tongue."

I read the symptoms and the causes, offered to show him the photos and then immediately decided he should never see the photos ever in a trillion years. This is the person who has a lifelong membership to my tongue and I never want him to think he's mouth-to-mouth with Harry of "And the Henderson's" fame.

Of all the weird things that can happen to one's body, Black, Hairy Tongue is sort of bittersweet. It won't kill you. It will go away on it's own. On the other hand, for something like 10 days, you might have a fur lining growing within your mouth. I know that we are all special, shaped and sized and freckled differently, but Jesus. Black, Hairy Tongue is pretty freaking gross looking.

I'm not going to say Black, Hairy Tongue is a deal breaker. If I was on a first date with a man who had it, and he dodged my peck with a "Oops. Sorry. Black Hairy Tongue. Next time?" I probably wouldn't go out with him again. But if Chuck had Black, Hairy Tongue, I'd still show him plenty of affection by filling my text messages with tons of emoticons.

He is, of course, kinder than me. Instead of telling me that I had the most disgusting orifice in all the land and that I was growing a Welcome Mat for my tonsils, he grabbed the box of Pepto-Bismol and read the part to me about how this stomach ache reliever can temporarily stain the tongue.

I went back into the bathroom and combed at my tongue with a toothbrush and it returned to it's rightful pink and healthy hue.

I'd say the scare was worth it. Now I have a new something disgusting in my arsenal of disgusting things.

2 comments:

feisty said...

Of course I googled it and almost threw up.

Christa said...

Thank god you looked at it. Now I don't have to be the only one with that image in my head.