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While I was rolling up the sleeves of this mid-thigh length, checkerboard cardigan to keep them from impeding my lunch-eating at one of my favorite cafes, a barista cheekily commented that I seem to have a real phobia of knitwear that legitimately fits.
Well, phobia is a bit extreme as far as word-choice goes, but there is something undeniably wonderful about a cardigan with the fit of a bathrobe. However, I will occasionally make an exception for a really good cropped crew-neck. The words "form-fitting" will always send a shiver down my spine, though-they just seem a little too obvious and ceaselessly remind me of the incredibly unfortunate montage that was my high school experience. So...maybe "phobia" isn't that far off base.
p.s. Does anyone else think that the shadows from the craggily branches make it look like I have some sort of oddly shaped mustache? Because my realization of the vague resemblance a few minutes ago made me irrationally excited.