Watch out!

Today I got tomato sauce in my hair. How does this happen to me?? I was innocently eating my pasta, sitting on the couch, when I realized I had sauce on my hands. Then I realized that this same hand had just been playing with my hair five seconds ago and now I had tomato in my hair! This is just one instance, in a long line foodstuff assaults that I receive on my person, on a daily basis. It’s not that I was a messy child growing up. I know how to eat with a knife, fork, spoon, and even a spork when called upon. I am immune to nothing: red wine, white wine, water, chocolate, toothpaste, tomato sauce. All is fair game until I change my clothes, do an eyewash or shower, whatever that’s required.

I actually had a childhood affliction of getting Italian salad dressing in my eye. I didn’t know that this didn’t happen to other kids until one day we were all sitting around telling gross stories when I laughingly mentioned if this mysterious phenomenon had happened to them. Chirp, chirp. "No Tracy, we’ve never gotten salad dressing in the eye." “Well surely orange juice then. It burns just as much!” The next thing I know everyone starts to get up, walking away slowly, as if we hadn’t just been talking about milk coming out of our noses five seconds before.

The only thing that takes a beating more than my eyes are my clothes. I can’t tell you how many articles of clothing have been relegated to the “sleep in” or “work in yard” piles because of some unknown food stain that won’t come out. In fact, I was so notorious for getting food on my clothes at my previous place of employment they used to take bets on how long it would be before I got whatever I was eating for lunch that day on my shirt. Double or nothing if I was wearing white.

Maybe I’m just unconscious. There was the time I was at the gas station filling up and was eavesdropping so intently on the conversation going on behind me that I didn’t notice I was overfilling my gas tank until I felt something cold falling on my shoe, and the strong smell of gasoline permeated my nostrils. Not only had I spilled it all over my shoe, it was all over my panty hose and skirt. I had to go home and shower all over again and if you think that the smell comes out in one washing you’re surely mistaken.

I’ve tried to be a little bit more proactive about my mishaps. Shout! wipes in a drawer, Tide pen in the purse, even baby-wipes and I don’t have any children!! But it still doesn’t matter. One melted milk chocolate to the seat of my pants please with a side of movie theater popcorn that has fallen in my bra, please.