Last week, one afternoon, it rained. It was about 70 degrees so I put on my long sleeved shirt. Now I can't stop thinking about my fall weather clothes.
I miss you, sleeves. It's nearly September-- we should be reunited already, but instead you sit in my drawers while I run around campus in a tank top sweating like crazy.
Sleeves are like a portable, instant comfort zone for my paranoia about having flabby arms. I also like not having to look at my arm hair. I can do all the push-ups and yoga I want, but it's never going to replace that peace of mind I get when no one can tell if my arms are toned.
Cold weather sucks, but I fucking love my hoodies.
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