tavie.com

There's something very freeing about a tank top.

Most people own at least a few sleeveless shirts, which tend to make for more comfortable summer months, but as for me, the tank top I am currently wearing is the first sleeveless shirt I have owned since I was ten years old. It's nightwear, a gift from my mother; it goes with the pajama pants my thoughtful mum got me as a gift from Old Navy several weeks ago. (I don't really like Old Navy, but they do know their pajama pants.)

The cool air on my arms is very pleasant.

I wouldn't even wear a sleeveless shirt as pajamas before. Not even in the privacy of my own home. I hate my arms that much. So this is a step of some sort; some sort of
progress in the effort to hate one's body less. I must, if I'm able to wear a sleeveless shirt around the house. That's something.

The smaller the garment, the larger the self-acceptance.

Gosh, but my arms are white.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:17 AM | shower me with attention