The ramen dilemma

Having eaten ramen since I was a child, my version of macaroni and cheese in Japan, you'd think I'd know how to eat it by now.  Not so.  The problem?  Broth, the cheese equivalent, part of what makes or breaks the meal, this I manage to spatter all over my shirt.  I've long since given up wearing white when I eat ramen.  I leave the restaurant with little brown stains all over myself.  I honestly don't know what I'm doing wrong.

Or, perhaps I do.  A simple answer would be the fact I don't slurp the noodles.  Any type of noodle in Japan--ramen, pasta, soba, udon--these are eaten with a loud slurp.  I just can't bring myself to do this.  I get away with it because I'm foreign.  People who don't know me assume I don't know the rules.  People who do know me often ask, "You don't slurp?  It's considered bad manners in America, right?"  I nod and sneak a glance down at my shirt.  Have I stained it yet?

I decide to ask for advice.  I'm with two men, one the owner of a restaurant, another a friend.  I bring up my dilemma.

"What am I doing wrong?  I notice all these businessmen in crisp white shirts eating ramen over the lunch hour and I never see stains on their shirts.  I know I don't slurp, but doesn't slurping actually make the noodles wiggle more?  Why don't you guys have stains on your shirts?"

They contemplate this for awhile and decide women decidedly have a more difficult time with noddle-based meals because surely breasts must get in the way.

"Hang on," I protest.  "That can't be right."
"You're right," the restaurant owner says.  "If this were true, we'd have stains all over our stomachs."  We all laugh as he pats his larger-than-average Japanese gut.
"I don't know," my friend says.  "Clearly you're doing something wrong.  Maybe you need to slurp."

Now we contemplate Japanese slurping methods.  I argue the noodles must flip back and forth as they get sucked in.  "Doesn't that make the noodles jiggle, and doesn't that make them spatter the broth?"
"No," my friend argues.  "You slurp straight up."  Ah.  Straight up.  I mentally picture this and wonder to myself how much my mouth can hold at one time.  I decide to put it out there.

"I think my mouth is smaller.  I don't think I can put that much into my mouth at one time."
"Oh, come on," the owner isn't buying this.
"Try it sometime," my friend pushes.

I will, but until then I vow to wear black until I master the art of stain-free slurping.