Some Diamonds Are Forever

Nov, 2006

You can pick your friends
And you can pick your nose (I know I do)
But you can't pick your friend's nose
-- The Dalai Lama

I was reading an article about the possible health benefits of eating your own dry boogers (don't ask). The act of doing so is called mucophagy, which sounds just about right but in my view should be followed by the suffix 'eeeeyooOOO!' or the more polite 'ugh'
We've all done the digging bit but I've only ever seen kids actually eat the stuff. Perhaps it's an evolutionary thing, to help recycle sodium or something, I don't know.

The article says in part: 
There is an Austrian doctor who has gained notoriety by advocating the picking of one's nose and the consumption of the resulting bounty, particularly in children. Dr. Friedrich Bischinger, a lung specialist working in Innsbruck, would have us believe that people who pick their noses with their fingers are healthier, happier, and more in tune with their bodies. His argument stems from the notion that exposing the body to the dried germ corpses helps to reinforce the immune system. The good doctor feels that society should adopt a new approach to nose-picking, and encourage children to take up the habit.
Dr. Bischinger has been quoted as saying (in an Austrian accent), "With the finger you can get to places you just can't reach with a handkerchief, keeping your nose far cleaner. And eating the dry remains of what you pull out is a great way of strengthening the body's immune system." He then added, "Medically it makes great sense and is a perfectly natural thing to do. In terms of the immune system the nose is a filter in which a great deal of bacteria are collected, and when this mixture arrives in the intestines it works just like a medicine."
Self Medicating.
Anyway, the article reminded me of an incident that took place some three years after I got married. I was relaxing at home having a pleasant booger digging session when, just as I was twirling the resulting bounty (and what a bounty it was!) around my thumb and index finger, Wa walked in on me. She complained that I had never taken her on a honeymoon or bought her a diamond.

"You want a diamond?" I said, "come here..." I grabbed her hand and gave her a perfectly spherical one carat booger, still warm and squishy soft.

She now has real diamonds, but gets just that slight tinge of "eeeyoo" when putting them on. I get a good laugh whenever I see them on her. That's something, 'cause the diamonds aren't good for anything else.

I don't think she's kept the original 'diamond' I gave her. She's so not romantic.

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