It is virtually impossible for me to eat anything without dropping food on myself. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, it’ll wind up in my hair or on my face or in my lap rather than on my shirt but for the most part, whatever I eat, I wear.
It used to be, if it was red, it’d get on me. Tomato sauce, ketchup, salsa, enchilada sauce…red foods and I were not on good terms. I invested in some Shout wipes in order to prevent more of my clothes from looking like I engaged in some sort of tomato warfare. Not to be outdone, the red foods lodged a campaign against me and now all foods attack my clothes. Soup. Milk. Peanut butter. Crumbs. Ice cream. Any sort of sauce. Chocolate. It’s impossible to make it through a meal without having tangible proof of what I’ve eaten. Honestly, when your 5 year old looks at you and says “Mommy, you got food on you again?!”, you know you have a problem.
To that end, I am jealous of people who can eat without dropping food on themselves. I’m jealous of the fact that their clothes aren’t stained with their meals and they don’t have to carry Shout wipes with them everywhere they go. I’m jealous of the fact that these people can eat in public without being shamed. I’m jealous of their ability to wear anything they want when they eat because they don’t have to worry about the aforementioned stains showing. I’m jealous that they’ve probably never been offered a bib. As a birthday present. More than once.
I don’t think I eat any differently than they do. I use utensils and napkins and plates and everything a person with even basic table manners is supposed to use. It doesn’t matter, though. But I think the tomato overlord is angry with me for some unknown reason and he’s using it to rally all the foods against me in some large stain producing conspiracy.
I’m starting to think that maybe the tomato overlord is in cahoots with the laundry czar. And they’re winning.