Dosha Dosha Bo Bosha

I love quizzes. They remind me of when I was a kid and me and my friend would sneak her big sister’s Cosmo magazines and we’d take the quizzes about things we knew nothing about and laugh and laugh at the guilty pleasure of it all. I just took one to find out which Ayurvedic sign I am.

Apparently, I am Pitta. Robust, intense and somewhat fiery. And I should stay away from hot foods, meaning both spicy and hot to the touch. Also, I must avoid onions, garlic, anything intense. And that bites because that’s what I like. And why do I like these foods? Because they are intense and robust and somewhat fiery.

We just bought this mug at a garage sale. I dig it.

Take coffee. I love my coffee to be very, very hot and very, very strong. Each morning, my husband makes his tea in his peaceful white teapot (which I once saw him actually kiss) and he pours it in his Stanley thermos and he feels very enlightened and cool with himself.

He pokes toward my coffee, which I clutch in both hands lest it accidentally slip sideways and I waste a drop.  “What you drink, there,” he says. “It is like tar. It is like stain. Someday,” he tells me in the hushed tone of a lama “you will see the light and then you will be drawn to the tea of green.”

That’s when I tell him, each morning, that I think his tea is like drinking bathwater. If I want to drink something, I want to taste it, not a glimpse of a mention of a hint of it, and I want it to practically scald me.

Perhaps I should be trying to balance my Pitta tendencies with the food and drink that I ingest. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. Or maybe I just need to drink my coffee on ice.

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