I’m doing something that scares me and it involves a tank top which means my life must be pretty good.

I went to two Old Navy stores today because they were having a big sale and I tried on something like 3,293 dresses before finally going with some sort of black flowy number that’s a bit too short so I have to search out footless tights or some crap like that and damnit, Old Navy, how come every single thing I try on in your store has some sort of element that I don’t like? Cute flowery shirt, but I don’t like ruffle sleeves. Cute eyelet dress, but too many pleats. Cute vertical stripes, but I don’t do the drop waist thing.

I spent seventeen hours at Old Navy before drunkenly (and I hadn’t been drinking) proclaiming that this summer shall be The Summer of The Tank Top. (They were having a big tank top sale.) I then crawled up to the register and purchased two.

I hate tank tops. I hate them. I feel naked in them and I typically wear them only if I have at least three layers over them.

BUT, it’s time to cartwheel out of my everyday style. It’s time to stop wearing long sleeves during the summer months. It’s time to let the world get to know my arms! (I’m trying very hard to not use the phrase Comfort Zone because it’s overused and I’m trying to find alternatives.)

I decided to make the biggest muscle I could make with my right arm for this post because STRENGTH! POWER! TANK TOP! and I believe this might be the final post of NaBloPoLenta (but I haven’t yet done a knitting post or finished my About the Pudding list!) so NABLOPOLENTA!!!

Sadly, I think I left my muscles in the fitting room at Old Navy. Good think I kept my H vein. (Depending on the day, it stands for either Humdrum or Humdinger! Hermit. Hungry.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>