On the night of our anniversary, Lew and I had chocolate bars for our dessert. (We were at Josh's baseball game, so our options were limited.)
The chocolate bars were a little soft due to the heat -- it is July, after all -- but they still tasted yummy. Mine was so good that I dribbled some of it all down the front of my tank top.
When I stood up at the end of the game, I also saw that I had gotten chocolate on the right leg of my jeans.
I did some laundry when we got home.
Lew and I both laughed about this, because it's not the first time that I've "worn" chocolate. I like to get Junior Mints at the movie theater, and one time I managed to get them pretty well mashed into my jeans and my jacket by the end of the show.
The sad part about both of these stories had nothing to do with the clothing -- it was the chocolate. What a terrible waste!
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