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The Doxtor

Hello, I'm The Doxtor. I was created by two alien cucumbers in 2007. I'm a fragment of that lady you may know called Shazzie. However, don't make any mistakes, I'm clearly a superior being as I utilise detoxification methods on myself and thousands of other people daily. Shazzie's just a housewife and mother. And she can't even clean very well, she's too busy ego surfing on the Internet, believe me.

I am The Doxtor because I encourage you now to take full responsibility for your health. Nobody else can do it for you. Did you know that humans are the only species who go to another being when they feel ill? This is because we've mislaid our precious innate capabilities to self heal. But you can heal thyself of "white coat syndrome" with a little help.

I'm here to tell you there's something else: The enema kit. And wheatgrass. And raw food. And yoga. And love. And right living. And all that. Right!

When you take responsibility for your own health and don't hand it over to someone in a white coat, you don't get ill. You can't get ill. So, I want you to become your own personal doxtor today.

Shine on. And up. And right a bit.

I'm an inspiration

I'm full of inspiration, I am (unlike Shazzie, who's a bit plain, really, when you get to know her). I made a whole series of free ecards (there are some other women on there, but ignore them, they're not as PVCish as me.) Have a look at them and doxtor your loved ones today. Then doxtor yourself. It's really important. Unless you want to end up looking like one of the UK's chief dieticians, who actually looks like she ate all her patients' food. I'd never take her advice, would you?

I'm a poet and I know it

I wrote this for you because I love you. I'm sharing it with you to show you I'm not as harsh as you may imagine. I'm just misunderstood.

What do I know?

Why do I think I know anything?
When everyone around me seems so strange?
Though I wanted so much to be like them
I found it impossible to change.

Am I the odd one? Am I the freak?
Where is my tribe? Where are you?
What do I know about this life?
I feel so blessed yet horribly cursed, too.

What do I know about true love
When I’ve been a dessert for so long?
It can make me prickly like a cactus, that.
And so thirsty I forget to sing my song.

Was it so I learned to love myself?
The loud one from the wrong side of Hull
I made more walls to feel secure
Painted them white coz John said Imagine

Would you reach me if I didn’t wear shoes?
I’m going to ditch those stiff restrainers.
They’re pretty but pointy and pointless.
I’m not even going to wear trainers.

Barefoot Doxtor.
Sweet lady foxtor.
Vageniyummy mummy.
With a bit of extra tummy.

I’m going to love you for proper now.
Right until you love me back.
And then I’ll have to gasp for air.
As it will give me a panic attack.

The spaceship’s filling, my seat is so pretty
There’s still room on it for you
The bags are gone out of the window now
We can love each others’ view

It’s no longer just a matter of time
Because time doesn’t really exist
Neither does matter for that matter
Which is why we can no longer resist

But what do I know?
I know!
I’m a fairy godmother.
I’m going to make my own wishes come true.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.

There. Three times, the magic number.

It’s here.
It’s now and I’ve got my wings to fly alongside you for ever.
Or at least until I have to return my costume.

I might keep the pants, though.

Ecstatic Beings

The Doxtor and Miss Magic wrote Ecsatic Beings because we are ecstatic beings. Imagine self-help meets and adult jackie annual and you may be some way there.

I'm an inspiration, still

Miss Magic makes food that's really very good. She wrote Raw Magic and she wrote a recipe for me. Of course. If you love it, you may want to check out the book. It gets the Doxtor's squeal of approval. Click on the image to see a bigger one where you can actually read the recipe.

© Raw Magic by Kate Magic Wood

Doxtor's juice

One night, two alien cucumbers invaded my room and turned me into The Doxtor you see before you. They put me through a series of astringent tests to see if I was up to the job. Of course, I passed with flying colours. One test was to make a Doxtor's juice, which would ecstasise the nation. It was beautiful and tragic at the same time. One of them laid down their lives for me. For us. Goddess, the least we can do now is drink the stuff. Cheers.

1 whole celery
1 cucumber
1 bunch of parsley
1 apple

Blend in a Vita-Prep 3
Pour into a stocking (not my orange footless fishnets).
Squeeze with delight
Drink.

The aliens told me that people don't like cleaning juicers and so that's why they blend. I made the stocking bit up, but they liked it. Well, the one that's still alive did. The other one couldn't communicate as he'd had his cell walls shattered. If he was a tomato, all his lycopene would have been made bioavailable without resorting to cooking. What a waste, cooking is.

Feel the ego and do it anyway

Some say I have an over-inflated ego. They're wrong. I have plural. Egi. In a patriarchal world such as this, I need them just to survive. They are my best friends. And I water them regularly (with a little bit of food grade hydrogen peroxide in there, too). I channel my Egi, just as Esther channels her Abraham.

Disclaimer from Shazzie

"Please note that The Doxtor has nothing to do with me at all. She is her own person, she's more than a little bit naughty and she will not take no for an answer. Me, I'm just a pussycat who lets ladies in pink PVC take over my web site. Our viewpoints are not always the same and I'm nowhere near as bitchy as she is. I think she needs less enemas and perhaps more kava kava."