Confession: I absolutely. LOVE. puffy sleeves.
I am not quite there yet. Or maybe I am, but maybe I don't want to buy that size bigger so that my arms will fit in it. I had this conversation with lovely friends at coffee a couple of weeks ago. It isn't like anyone goes through my closet looking for the size I buy. If they did, I may or may not call the police. THAT is a violation, I am sure of it. But I have this weird thing about me that says I won't buy a shirt that is more than one size bigger (even if it runs small) because I don't want to think that was my size.
Wake up, Linzi. Your size is whatever fits. Quit skipping over puffy sleeves because of an insecurity.
I'd like to thank this Topshop dress for helping me go through "size label" therapy. I know you are humming "You're so vain" in your heads right now... I promise... in a few weeks, I will report back a new woman. Ish.
Without further adieu, please welcome my size therapist.
Don't you love her? Nice neck/waist line... Beautiful color... no head. Oh wait.
I encourage any other believers that people really do read your tag labels to buy one thing that you thought your body couldn't wear. Go ahead, buy a bigger size. Enjoy fashion at its best. For me, that's the puffy sleeve.
In other first grade news, I learned the focus attention span of a six-year-old. The word discouraging comes to mind...