Sometimes fate just likes to have a laugh at your expense. I mean, it must have been fate that I recalled The Terrible Chocolate Yogurt Incident this morning during the course of thinking on my way to work. And then I repeated the Incident with applesauce this afternoon down to the details. Surely I am not just a pregnant klutzy woman (much like I was a klutzy, awkward teenager).

So, I suppose you are wanting to know about The Terrible Chocolate Yogurt Incident now, eh? Well, I will tell you . . . but I never want to hear about it again. The very thought sends shivers through my every nerve.

There I was, a medium height, relatively thin 16-year-old in my journalism class junior year at Pawling Jr./Sr. High School. I didn’t have a lunch period, so I munched in that class everyday while working on stories and copy edits. I was, after all, the big self-important copy editor (which is somewhat of a laugh if you know my track record with spelling and punctuation . . . but I could put a hell of a sentence together). Anyway, I was wearing my puffy, ruffled shirt (actually it was a bodysuit shirt — it was the 90s after all). And when I opened my nonfat chocolate yogurt for lunch SPLAT! It came flying out at me. In disbelief, I looked down at my dark chocolate stained ruffles. And, no, a little water DIDN’T help get it out. I was, in a word, mortified. It was even more mortifying that I had to wear that stupid shirt for the remainder of the school day (3-4 class periods) and to work that night, since I couldn’t just run home and change – no car, no license.

Needless to say, that was the last time I took chocolate yogurt for lunch. Or any yogurt for that matter.

And that brings me back to today when I peeled back the foil on a little unsweetened applesauce cup. What happened? I wore it. Right down the front of my brown dress . . . wonderful!

Really, I think fate just needed a laugh today.

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