I Stink, Therefore I Am

People can be so cruel. Why do people, especially my co-workers, have to be that way. Yes, I admit it, I have a problem that plays havoc with my social life. It's probably a problem I've had much of my life, but, either I've become more aware of it, or it has, indeed worsened in the past few years. I would write Dear Abby about it, but, I can't remember if she's the dead twin, and if she is dead, I'm pretty sure any advice she might offer would be greatly limited.
Whether my problem has worsened or not, one thing for sure, I get ridiculed by my co-workers a lot more these days. Basically, I guess you could describe my problem as an eating disorder. I can't seem to transport food from my plate to my mouth without spilling massive quantities on my clothes. It doesn't matter what I'm eating, or which utensil I choose to do the job, I spill. I spill soup. I spill mashed potatoes. You name it, I've probably spilled it.
But, again, I ask, why do those with whom I spend eight hours or more a day, find such delight in making fun of me. I'm just not that sort of person I guess. For instance, one of our assistant editors, whom I'll call Alaina, spilled something on her blouse yesterday. It was horrible looking, really messy. But, would I hold her up to public humiliation? Would I be so ungentlemanly to mention it? No. My lips are sealed. Sure, she was really ridiculous looking, but I wouldn't say that to anyone. That's just not me.
What is me, is a messy slob. If I'm eating a hamburger and there's a slice of tomato on the burger, wanna guess where the tomato ends up? That's right, in my lap. Maybe I grip my burgers too tightly, because whatever is on the burger, from ketchup to pickles to lettuce, seems to squirt from between the bun and onto me.
You can imagine how I look by the end of the day. That's what everyone chides me about. Evidently my clothes smell like a cheap Chinese buffet at closing time. It's gotten so bad, when I undress in the evening, I hang my ties in the refrigerator.
Needless to say, going out in public, basking in the odors of my daily repast, does not make me especially popular among fellow employees, business acquaintances, or even my family.
It's the same way with any beverage I drink. I cannot for the life of me figure out how I manage to fling coffee from that little hole in the top of the 7-11 cup just by bringing said cup to my lips. I think I hold the cup and move the cup and position the cup in a normal, every-day sort of way. But it is virtually impossible for me to drink coffee without having it all over my shirt. And, have you ever smelled stale coffee? If you answered "yes" to that, then you have, in effect smelled me.
I don't think there's something terribly wrong with me. I just think it's who I am. Some people lisp. Some people are excessively gaseous. I'm a spiller. I don't like it. But, I can't seem to be able to change it. So, I live with it, and I guess, by extension, everyone with whom I come in contact, lives with it too.
I guess I'm saying all this as a sort of way to warn you. If I'm coming your way, I'd love to meet you. But, just know that what you're smelling is not some medical disorder, it's just me being me. And, if you do have an appointment with me coming up, let me know your favorite foods, and I'll make an effort to spill it before we get together. Hey, that's the least I can do.