Nestled in the middle of The Many Things That Make Me Quirky list–right there between having to walk on the left side of anyone to only drinking hot coffee through a straw–is the matter of sleeves. Apparently I have more opinions about sleeves than most people have about politics.
I don’t like them puffy, or three-quarter-length or split at the shoulders. All day long you can keep your mutton legs and your dolmans to yourself. And when I’m getting my workout on, if I had a bumper sticker on my ass it would read TANK TOPS OR BUST.
Which begs a simple question: Why-ever did I buy this cap sleeve yoga tee?
The thought of doing yoga in this tank top makes me break out in a full-body sweat (and not in a chakra-cleansing, Bikram Choudhury way).
I do realize I could wear it, say, to the grocery store or a movie (if I actually went to movies PUT IT ON THE QUIRKY LIST DAMMIT), but I don’t. I could
savasana sleep in it, or wear it around the house, but I won’t. Maybe because it’s brown, or because it bunches up beneath the armpits, or because ANY MORON CAN SEE IT’S OBVIOUSLY A YOGA T-SHIRT.
Namaste, little brown tee. Here’s hoping someone else bows to the divine in you.