I cannot wear white. I would love to, and occasionally do TRY to.. but it's just not a good idea. I will inevitably decide to cook spagetti or eat wings or chocolate ice cream or roll down a grassy hill on just the day that I decide to wear white. (because I'm cool like that) Wait, let me specify.. this rule generally goes for all things light-colored such as: Khaki, tan, cream, or ivory. I've tried everything from soda water to warm water to salt water to bleach pens to wet-wipes to soap and water to lemon water to you-name-it. Me and white clothing are just not as tight as me and darker colored clothing.
Thinking about this, and other idiosyncracies of mine, makes me somewhat sad for the little bundle of joy that I'm carrying in my belly. This poor child will probably never wear white, or never be very good at figuring out percentages. She will probably always ask the same question three times in a row, or interrupt people at the very worst times. She will probably be a foot taller than all of the other kids for a VERY long time, and have mammoth-sized feet for E-T-E-R-N-I-T-Y. She will most likely have Scott's oversized (but very adorable, honey) head, and will have one hick-up an hour for weeks at a time. This tiny little baby will one day start a fight just because (because that's what women do), and will probably start a fire in the back yard with the leaf blower. (because Dad will inevitably teach her this. I'm sure of it. Fact.) Ohmygoodness. What have I done? This baby will be a mini-us. Poor thing. I'm resting, though, on my belief that she will be 700 times better than I think that she'll be. She will be beautiful and clumsy and talented and forgetful and absolutely 100% loved. (with stains and all)