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Thursday, February 18, 2010

"It's a meal"

When I read Diane's post on Girl Talk Thursday that started with "I’m not an athlete." I thought, hey *I* am not an athlete. Score! Then I read Maria's post and decided this was clearly the event for me.

I have an uncanny ability. You will be able to easily guess this if you have ever eaten a meal with me, seen me after a meal, or really just noticed my shirts. I drop food on my chest at every meal. Every. Meal. This earns me a Bronze medal I would think. More often than not it is something that makes a mess, earning me a Silver. Entirely too often it is something that stains. Which would probably earn me a gold, but really if any of you have seen the size of my chest you understand just what a showpiece this is, earning me the often coveted Stain Stick medal for having one more reason to stare at my boobs.

I have, of recent, started wearing scarves in situations that I would prefer not to walk around the rest of the day advertisement of my meals. This does not stop my darling husband from declaring EVERY time he sees it happen "It's a meal".

8 comments:

thepsychobabble said...

I hate when that happens. And it happens a LOT. lol
I like how it's not officially a meal at your place, until it does happen though. :)

One Cluttered Brain said...

You are just saving a snack for later right?

Yup. I HATE it when that happens. That and lipstick on your fave blouse as you pull it over your head.

Awful!

Mary Jo said...

I feel ya... I have this issue almost everytime I go out to eat. You know, when I DON'T have a shirt I can change into.

Cheryl said...

LOL! That SHOULD be an olympic sport. My husband would be a great competitor.

VampireSmitten said...

I feel like you are me in a parallel life. That sounds like me. "Omg this is sooo good." *drops food on chest or lap*

uthostage said...

Oh I SO hate when that happens. It always seems to happen on my white shirts too!

Malina said...

I could give you a run for your money. I don't have quite the landing pad you do, but I do okay.

Diane said...

Mine always goes down the front of my shirt and straight into my bra. And I don't always find it until much later. I know any men who might be reading this are insanely jealous of my husband right now, but don't worry, fellows. He knows how lucky he is.

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